


The Frugal Spectre

by RockingItInAParallelUniverse



Series: Songs of The Smiths [3]
Category: Indie Music RPF, Marrissey - Fandom, Music RPF, The Smiths
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boys Kissing, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, Paranormal Investigators, Sexual Tension, ghost story, girl pop makes me cheesy, im a hopeless romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2020-12-27 04:40:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21112790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockingItInAParallelUniverse/pseuds/RockingItInAParallelUniverse
Summary: Morrissey purchases and moves into the dilapidated home of a deceased childhood friend in hopes of encountering her disembodied spirit.





	1. Dream House

**Author's Note:**

> Story is set in the present day. Morrissey is in his mid 20's in this alternate universe (Moz as a millennial!). The Smiths as a band do not exist. Yet. 
> 
> It's October and the fandom needs a ghost story. Even if it is a ridiculous one.
> 
> Inspired by listening to - Back To The Old House - off Hatful Of Hollow - 1984
> 
> Trigger Warning - A character died of cancer at the age of 13. Not a lot of details are discussed about the actual death. Just wanted to give readers a heads up in case this hits too close to home.

Steven Morrissey double checks his look in the mirror. He is the epitome of the average office stooge. From his white button-down shirt topped with a navy jumper and matching navy trousers all the way to his black, steel-toed boots. Those boots, laughable, really that the bank requires them. Were his superiors worried he might break a toe from kicking his desk? He sighs. Expecting intelligent thoughts from management is always an overreach.

Reassured that he is correctly attired, Steven proceeds to the meeting with his father. Peter Morrissey (dear old dad) was to be avoided at all costs for the most part, but Steven is desperate. His father is the only person he can think of that might be willing to lend him enough money to secure a down payment for his dream home. This endeavor smacks of all the lessons the manly man tried to teach him before he left the family when Steven was 17. Any recent conversations were filled with disdain that he was still living at home with his mum. So Steven prays the thought of his only son finally living on his own at age 26 to be enough persuasion for the man to open his wallet to help a boy out.

The home in question is more the stuff of nightmares than dreams. Severely neglected and in a state of disrepair, the building was prime for demolition. Steven couldn't stomach the thought of it being replaced by some garish high rise filled with ultramodern apartments or tacky wine bars and coffee shops. Even in its dilapidated state, the house holds dear memories for him. This is his last chance to save it from destruction. This is also the last chance of contacting his childhood friend, who left this world 15 years ago.

******

After puffing out his chest and putting on a convincing display of toxic masculinity and many reassurances that this job (the 5th in a string of attempts at gainful employment) is going quite well and has a lucrative future, Steven leaves his father's home with enough money, combined with his savings, to purchase the old house. He phones his supervisor at the bank for instructions on how to make an offer and begins the journey toward home ownership. Now, he must break the news to his mum.

“Why now?” Betty Dwyer asks her son.

“It’s beyond time. I have a good feeling about this job and I just want to be a bit closer to work. It would be nice to be able to walk.” Steven lies.

Betty hugs him. “I’m so happy for you! I know you really did not want to work for the bank. It warms my heart that you found you like it so much.”

Steven feels a twinge of guilt. He really doesn’t want to lie to his mother, but he also doesn’t want to incur her worry about his mental state. He figures he has three weeks of peace until she helps him move and sees exactly what home he has purchased.

******

The home buying process is going well. Because he is an employee of the bank, his 3 year employment history requirement is waived. Steven hasn’t held a job for more than 6 months. He works in customer service on the phone. He loathes talking to customers. Thankfully, his voice seems to soothe the anger right out of people. It’s why he was given the job in the first place. His pathetic resume was useless, but his voice was not. Go figure.

It's the night before his big move. Steven sits in his room at his mother’s house packing his earthly possessions. His record albums have been carefully wrapped and layered in cushions of tissue and bubble wrap. Now he is going through his books. He caresses the cover of Carson McCullers' "The Heart is a Lonely Hunter" and fondly remembers the deep conversations his 12 year-old self had with his best friend. "Soon, love," he whispers to the dog-eared book. "I will see you soon."

"I'm so excited to see your house, Steven," his mother interrupts his thoughts. "I can't believe you wouldn't show it to me earlier!"

"Yes. Well. I wanted it to be a surprise." His mother misses the reluctant tone in his otherwise melodic voice. He knows the proverbial shit will be hitting the fan the moment she lays eyes on his new home.

After packing his several boxes of miscellaneous items, a box of clothes, 3 boxes of books and 2 large crates of record albums, he lugs an old suitcase to his mother's car with any remaining odds and ends.

"Steven, what will you sleep on? You have no furniture!"

"I want to get a feel for the place before I buy any." Steven hopes this uncharacteristic embracing of a bohemian lifestyle will satisfy his mother. In reality, he is penniless now, all his money is tied to his mortgage. And he hopes the lack of creature comforts will hasten the appearance of Anji to his side.

Betty is silent. Her lips are pressed in a grim, straight-line, as she takes in the extent of her son's madness. They have arrived at Steven's new home.

"Oh, dear, was there really no other way?" she asks, shaking her head in a derisive manner.

Steven blushes. The cat is out of the bag. "It all seemed to come together, " he says. "I saw the For Sale sign on my way to work one day and I asked what was to become of the property. They were going to tear it down, Mum," his voice hiccups with emotion. "I couldn't let that happen. I just couldn't!"

"She is gone, love. She's been gone for over 15 years. Cancer is a beastly disease. Would Anji have wanted you to devote your life to preserving her memory?"

"She didn't have a chance to tell me what she wanted. She died, Mum. Is it so wrong to want to live in a place that is filled with happy memories of a good friend?"

Betty reluctantly gets out of the car. "I would be fine if I believed that is the only reason you wanted this house. But I know you too well, my son. I'm afraid you are going to allow yourself to get sucked into the past, to become stuck there as a 13 year-old misfit whose best friend has died instead of growing into the handsome young man of 26 that you are, with his own life of dreams and goals."

But Steven isn't listening to his mother. He is already carrying a crate of record albums into the musty house.

******

The cold, hard reality of exactly what he has done sinks in the next morning as he dresses in the light of his desk lamp after an ice cold shower. He is taking a holiday from work next week, to "settle in". This can be translated as a week off work to make a full list of everything that needs fixing and replacing in the house. And it will mark the beginning of his very own ghost hunt in search of his best friend, Anji.

After a tedious day at work, Steven walks home, realizing he doesn't know if the stove works and even if it does, he has no refrigerator. ~Sigh~ At least he has a bag of crisps. No cooking or refrigeration necessary.

He sees a delivery truck in front of the house. What is this?

“Surprise, Steven!” His mother jumps out from behind the truck. “I bought you a housewarming gift.”

Steven is speechless as he watches workmen wheel a refrigerator out of the truck and into his home. He walks up to his mother and gives her a big hug. He might have a tear or two trailing down his cheeks. 

“I do love you, my son. I won’t lie and say I’m not worried about you. But maybe I can worry a little less knowing you have a place to keep food.”

“Thanks, Mum. I really needed this today.”

“I’m going to head home unless there’s something else you need.”

Steven waves her on, not wanting to mention that he needs a new hot water heater and furnace. Thank God it’s still summer.

As he prepares to go to sleep that night, Steven burrows under his duvet on a pallet of blankets to soften the floor. He lies awake staring at the ceiling, listening to the creaks and groans of the walls protesting the force of the wind outside.

“Anji, are you there? It’s Steven. Morrissey. I really need to talk to you.”

He waits hoping to hear footsteps, a whisper, anything that might indicate his friend’s spirit is near. He begins to doze off, the fatigue of the day overtaking his mind and limbs. A light breeze blows across the room. It’s cold. Steven quickly sits up and glances around. “Anji?” he whispers. He doesn’t know what to expect, but he feels a heaviness in the air. He closes his eyes and extends his hand, palm up. Nothing happens. He lays back down but leaves his arm on top of the covers in the same position. As he drifts to sleep, he feels a light tickle against his palm. He falls asleep with a smile on his face.

******

Finally, it’s Friday. Each night this week, just before falling asleep, Steven is sure he can feel Anji’s presence. But every morning, upon awakening, doubts creep into his recollection. How can he be positive it’s her? And how can he communicate?

During lulls in phone calls at work, Steven googles paranormal investigation for more information. Jesus, the equipment is expensive! And he really needs to save money for a new furnace so he won’t freeze to death this winter. He makes a plan for this weekend. He will buy a flashlight, eat some Chinese takeaway and dig out an ancient tape recorder. He’ll use the flashlight and recorder for ghost hunting and devour the food for energy.

The house is a small, two-story semi-detached townhome. Downstairs is a living room, kitchen and a sunny breakfast nook nestled in a wall of windows. Drafts abound here because the rotten weatherstripping is shredded and even missing in some places. There is also a half bath tucked under the staircase. Two bedrooms, a full bath and an en suite in the master make up the upstairs. Steven fondly remembers the smaller bedroom. Anji plastered posters of horses, My Chemical Romance, Paramore and Blondie to the walls. It was their sanctuary. This is the room he wants to make his own. His pallet of blankets, record player and boxes of books are against the wall directly across from a small window that overlooks the street below. He plugs in the 40 year old tape recorder and primes it for recording. He puts on The Shangri-Las and begins to sing along with 'Give Him a Great Big Kiss'. He smiles, remembering pantomiming the entire album with Anji.

"And when I see him in the street my heart takes a leap and skips a beat," Steven sings, waiting for Anji's voice to join him. He presses the buttons to record whatever comes next. The music makes him happy. It seems to brighten the room, even in the fading evening light. He dances around with his eyes closed, wrapped in the memories of feeling completely at ease and comfortable with himself. Anji didn't judge him, just as he didn't judge her. They were quite the pair; a delicate, gentle boy and a rough and tumble tomboy of a girl.

His room is filled with moonlight when the second side of the album finishes. "Ok, Anji," he says after stopping the recorder. "I'm going to turn on this flashlight. It has a button on the handle. All you have to do is push it, and the light will turn off. That's all you have to do to let me know you're here with me." He sits on his make-shift bed and pulls his knees to his chest. Should he look directly at the flashlight? Or would that discourage any spirit interaction? He googles this on his phone. Hmm. After skimming a couple of articles, he decides to go downstairs to make some tea. Apparently, ghosts can feel bashful in the presence of humans and may need some alone time to manifest their appearances.

Steven stifles a yawn as he sips his tea and leans against the kitchen counter. He really needs at least one chair. Maybe he'll do some dumpster diving tomorrow. He probably should head to a more affluent part of town for this activity. The rich have hopefully treated any disregarded furniture with a bit more cleanliness than those down and out. He checks his watch. It's almost midnight. The witching hour. "Do you hear that? I just called you a witch! Turn off the flashlight, love. I'm on my way up."

But the flashlight is still beaming brightly when he re-enters the bedroom. Blast. This ghost hunting business may be more difficult than he originally thought.

******

Steven awakens with a snort. It's cold and wet. Wet? Oh shit, he thinks as he looks at the ceiling. A line of water droplets march across the roofline. It's raining outside and his roof is leaking. Holy mother of God. How much do roofs cost? He switches on his lamp then quickly switches it off and unplugs it for good measure. He can just see himself getting electrocuted. Maybe that might be the best outcome for this situation. Steven wouldn't have to worry about the cost of repairs AND he could meet up with Anji in the afterlife and they could both haunt this miserable house for the rest of eternity. He isn't convinced death by electricity is the best move so he packs up his now damp bedding and begins dragging everything downstairs to the living room. At least it's dry down there. A few trips up and down the stairs and all of his boxes are safe from the elements for the time being. He wanders around the downstairs in the grey of pre-dawn. As he appraises the state of things in the breakfast nook full of windows, he retrieves his laptop and watches a few YouTube videos about weatherstripping and waterproofing. Good God. He may be forced to become some kind of DIY expert. "Anji, where are you???" he cries.

After getting a few more hours of sleep draped over his computer, Steven officially starts his day by calling several roofing companies. He arranges for three to come out and give him estimates. The real world fucking sucks. Things like this never happen in Oscar Wilde's books. He drags himself back upstairs for another icy shower and dresses in his oldest blue jeans, a worn Jobriath t-shirt and a dingy cream colored cardigan. He pulls on his work boots thinking the steel toes may actually come in handy for once. Next he consults YouTube again and jots down names of weatherstripping and stuff like caulk and insulation. Once he meets with the first roofing company and quickly dismisses them (7000 pounds for a roof, who can afford that?!) he makes his way to the local hardware store where he purchases weatherstripping tape, caulk and caulk gun, tarps, a set of screwdrivers and heavy duty scissors.

The second roofing company estimates 5200 pounds. He takes the man's card. Who knew that would sound like such a bargain? But the third company quotes 4800. Done.

"I'd like to go ahead and schedule the work," Steven says to the third man.

"Fantastic. Let me see," the man mumbles, scrolling on his mobile. "How does three weeks from today work for you?"

"What? But this is an emergency!"

"I'd suggest you tarp it, then. Three weeks is the earliest available time I have to get a crew out here."

Steven reluctantly agrees and trudges back to the hardware store for more tarps. Then he realizes he has no way to get on the roof. For fucks sake. And knowing he's going to have to take out a loan for the roof replacement, he can't even afford to drink away his misery. He's reduced to a diet of yogurt and crisps. Death by electrocution is sounding better. He carries all of his hardware purchases upstairs and spends the rest of the day cleaning, weatherstripping and caulking. The roof may still be leaky, but the doors and windows should offer some protection now. 

Exhausted by manual labor, he resumes his efforts to summon Anji. He lights candles in the living room, sits cross-legged on the floor and chants her name. Nothing. Dammit. He puts on a Jeff Buckley album. As Mr. Buckley wails about the last goodbye, Steven pleads with Anji. "I need you. Please show yourself. I fixed your windows with my bare hands! I have white caulk under my fingernails! My life is a vortex of despair!" But still no strange sounds, no apparitions, not even an icy wind. He had hoped it wouldn't come to this, but Steven feels he has no choice. He plays a 45 of Pink Floyd's 'Wish You Were Here'. "We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl year after year!" he croons along to David Gilmour. "I need you, Anji. I need to hear your voice. Please don't leave me here alone!" If hopelessness could summon spirits, an entire cemetery worth of souls would occupy his house. But, alas he remains alone. He blows out the candles and crawls into bed. 

"What are you doing here?" 

"Anji! You are here!" he can hear her voice in his dream.

"But what are you doing here, Morrissey?"

"I wanted to see you."

"Look at me, Morrissey," she says and in his dream he sees her pale face with a scarf covering her head. The dark circles under her green eyes are the physical evidence of the battering her body has taken by the treatments.

"I thought you were healed in the afterlife?"

"I am. But this is a dream, not the afterlife." Her face fades. "You are seeing me how you last remember me."

"I don't want to see you like this. I want you whole."

"You need help, Morrissey," is the last thing he hears before he awakens to a dark, quiet house and he KNOWS. He absolutely knows he must contact a professional paranormal investigator to do this right, to bring back his friend healed from all the pain of this world, even for just one conversation, no matter what the cost (up to a point).

******


	2. Meet The Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven contacts and hires a team of professional paranormal investigators.

Who knew there were so many professional ghost hunters in the greater Manchester area? Steven filters his search to exclude tours and guided ghost hunts of specific locations. He decides to limit his research to paranormal investigators with active websites. Only one lists a flat fee for their services: The Frugal Spectre. 

Welcome to The Frugal Spectre Paranormal Service! We are a group of three highly motivated young men with a passion for poltergeists. We offer live-in investigations, meaning a team will take up temporary residence at your site of paranormal activity. This insures the most thorough research will be conducted. Three packages are available:The Unmarked Grave - Our bare-bones basic plan, The Engraved Stone - Everything offered in the Unmarked Grave plus a few extra invaluable services, and The Mausoleum - Our most comprehensive investigatory experience. Click on the name to discover the details and pricing of each package. We look forward to working with you!

The group has four reviews, all 5 stars and done recently. Simon writes: "Had a blast with the guys from Frugal Spectre. Learned a lot and the music was spectacular." Music? Andrew writes: "Very helpful with all kinds of ghostly stuff. The Frugal Spectre goes above and beyond." Above and beyond what? Michael writes: "The team from The Frugal Spectre is worth every penny. I am completely satisfied with my investigation. Loved how all the prices were clearly laid out with no hidden fees." That does sound good. John writes: "The guys at The Frugal Spectre are really talented. I was impressed by their knowledge and skill in all matters of the paranormal." Well half of the reviews sound good and the other two weren't bad, just weird. But this is a paranormal investigation company, so weirdness is most likely the norm. Steven clicks on the plans and settles on The Engraved Stone. Anji deserves more than The Unmarked Grave, he thinks with a shudder, but he can't justify the added expense of The Mausoleum, sorry Anji. He phones the number to schedule an appointment.

"You've reached The Frugal Spectre, this is Mike speaking, how may I help you?"

"Um, yes. I'd like to schedule an investigation."

"Wonderful! Are you familiar with our services?"

"Well, just what I've read on your website."

"Really? Did you like it? We've been working hard on making it user friendly."

"Well, yes. I liked it enough to call, right?' Steven is beginning to regret this phone call.

"Oh, sorry. Web design is a hobby of mine and I'm always on the lookout for feedback. Back to your investigation, is this a residential or commercial property?"

"Residential."

"Do you own or rent the property?"

"Own," he says with a weary sigh.

"Oi, is it that bad? We're not facing anything demonic here, are we?"

"What? No! Of course not! Wait. Do you deal with demons often?" Steven has to ask, because demons in Manchester?

"Once. I'd rather not go into details. Let's just say two of the three of our team added a 'No Demonic Possession' clause to their contracts. Right, then. Back to your investigation. Are you available for a consultation this afternoon?"

" Yes. Yes, I am. Anytime this afternoon, actually."

"Alright. An investigator, most likely me, will come round at 2:30. Address please?"

Steven is ecstatic. Finally something seems to be going his way. He just hopes this Mike guy isn't too dodgy.

******

"Steven Morrissey?" a boy about his age and height asks. He has spiky black hair and rather large, low set ears.He's dressed in charcoal grey trousers and sports coat over a black button down shirt, no tie. 

"Yes. Hello." Steven confirms. He was waiting on the front stoop. Yesterday's weatherproofing mission was a little too successful. The bloody door is sticking now.

"I'm Mike Joyce. I'm an investigator with The Frugal Spectre. I also do web design, technical set-up, bookkeeping, and I'm a drummer in my spare time," he grins.

"I work in customer service at a bank. I read and listen to music in my spare time. And I've recently become an impromptu handyman."

"We might be able to put your skills to use, mate. You do have a great phone voice."

Steven just shrugs. "Would you like to take a look at the house."

Mike nods. "So what do you need us for?"

"I've been here a week. I was sure I felt a presence, but the more I tried to make contact, the less I felt her."

"Her?"

Steven freezes. He can feel the burning in his cheeks as his face turns pink.

"Don't worry, mate. We've heard it all in this line of work."

He goes on to explain to Mike about Anji, her sickness and eventual death and the ties that bind him and her to this house.

"Oh cool! This is gonna be a trip to investigate!" Mike gushes.

A trip? Steven once again worries that the The Frugal Spectre may have been the wrong choice.

"Right," Mike regains his professionalism, "This is how it's gonna work. I will type up a dossier about the haunting with all the details you've provided. Tonight, my two colleagues and I will move in and set up our equipment."

"You mean 2 other people are going to be living here?"

"Well, yes. It's all part of the live-in investigation. It helps us expedite contact. You do want contact with your friend, right?"

"Of course. But I prefer solitude. Why do you think I purchased a haunted house? I'd rather spend time with the dead than the living."

"You're an odd one, Steve. But don't worry about us. We'll blend in."

Steven grits his teeth. "Do not call me Steve. Ever."

Mike holds up his hands. "Easy there, tiger. Just trying to lower the formality."

"Sorry. I'm just overwhelmed at the thought of having houseguests. I mean I don't have hot water, the furnace is fucked, the roof leaks. It's just a nightmare, really."

"Hey! One of my colleagues works construction. Maybe he can help with some improvements. And remodeling seems to increase paranormal activity, so this could be a win/win situation!"

"You aren't put off by cold showers, dankness, and wearing scarves and mittens indoors?"

"Oh we've been in worse situations, believe me. Picture three blokes living in a prehistoric Reno van. We're accustomed to bleakness, mate."

Bleakness is a way of life for Steven. Perhaps The Frugal Spectre is a perfect match after all.


	3. Strange I Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven is overwhelmed with the most face-to-face human interaction he's had since his school days as the crew from The Frugal Spectre take up residence. He becomes keenly aware of Anji's presence and the fact that one crew member is not like the others. Can Anji tell it, too?

Steven looks out his window to see Mike and a blonde boy walking up the drive. Mike is wearing a backpack and pulling a rolling case while the blonde has a duffle bag thrown over one shoulder and a guitar case over the other.

"Steven! This is Andy, another member of our team." Mike says as the two make their way into the house.

Andy grunts his response and drops the duffle to the floor while carefully lowering the guitar case. He is shorter than Mike, with a very sturdy build. His face is pleasant in a wholesome English lad way and his green eyes look warily out from under arched eyebrows.

He extends his hand to Steven, "Andy Rourke. Investigator, roadie, maintenance and bassist."

"Pleasure. Steven Morrissey. No-one of any importance."

Andy laughs and turns to Mike. "Where's Johnny? I thought he'd be here already so we can get set up?"

"He's finishing up a job then he'll bring the van round." Mike gives Andy a rather sheepish look and then turns to Steven, "Johnny is our sound man and also dabbles in procurement." Andy snickers on the word 'procurement'.

"So where are we bunking down, mate?" Andy turns his attention back to Steven who is caught slightly off guard by this comment.

"Um, well, um, there are two bedrooms upstairs but the roof leaks so I'm sleeping down here for now, but it might be rather crowded, so, um I really don't know," Steven stammers.

"Why don't you tarp the roof?" asks Andy.

"I don't have a ladder and I don't know how else to get up there to tarp it. I do have tarps, though," he answers lamely.

"Once Johnny gets here, I should be able to get up there to tarp it. The house isn't that large, shouldn't take too much effort."

"Does Johnny have a ladder?"

"No but he's like a spider monkey. He can climb anything anywhere. I could probably do it myself, but I'm afraid Mike'll drop me out the window."

"Hey. That only happened once and that's because I saw an apparition!"

Andy looks at Steven and shakes his head. "Apparition, my arse."

"I can try to help. Just tell me what to do." Steven is excited at the prospect of being able to sleep in Anji's room again plus the added bonus of privacy from all of the investigators.

Andy eyes Steven's tall, skinny frame with skepticism. "Let's give it a try, but the minute I feel your hands slipping, I'm back inside, right?"

Steven nods and the trio trek up the stairs to the master bedroom. "This is the largest window," he says as he attempts to open it. He can feel his face reddening when he cannot get the sash to budge.

"Let me give it a go," Andy pushes his way to the window. "Fuck. It's been sealed shut!"

"Uh, I guess that's my doing. It was really drafty so I weatherproofed the windows and doors."

Andy laughs. "No drafts now. You don't mind re-doing it if I chisel the window open?"

"Not at all. Have at it."

As Andy works on the window, Steven sees a beat-up, white Reno van pull into the drive. "Is that Johnny?" he asks, squinting to see if he can make out the shape of the driver.

"That's him. Let's go down and meet him while Andy finishes up with the window," says Mike, already heading for the stairs.

Steven follows, thankful this is the last new face he will have to deal with tonight. Mike goes out the door while Steven waits in the living room. He takes the opportunity to close his eyes, ruffle his hair and take a few deep breaths. At least his job is just himself in a cubicle with his phone and computer. Face-to-face interaction is still awkward and difficult. Mike and Andy seem fine so this Johnny should be an alright bloke as well. Think positive, Steven.

Mike re-enters the house carrying a couple of cameras and a big sack filled with cables. Behind him, a hand cart rolls in with 4 large black cubes stacked on it. Once the hand cart clears the threshold, a small, black-haired boy wearing sunglasses appears from its side. He's dressed in ripped black skinny jeans, a white button-down shirt under a black leather jacket and moccasins on his feet. "Johnny Marr. Investigator, sound, procurement and the best fucking guitarist in all of Manchester" he says with a grin and grabs Steven's hand with a firm grip.

The warmth of Johnny's hand is like fire. Shocked, Steven utters, "Morrissey. Steven Morrissey". He blushes immediately. How stupid can you get, Steven? Accidental James Bond reference, really?

"So which do you use, Steven or Morrissey?" Johnny asks as he stretches to unstack the hand cart.

"Both, but I prefer Morrissey."

"Alright, Morrissey it is. Where have you had the most action?"

Steven turns even redder, "Beg your pardon?"

"Paranormal activity. Is it all over the house or concentrated in one particular area?"

"Oh, sorry. Wasn't sure what you were talking about there for a minute. Um I've felt it the most in the smaller bedroom upstairs. But I've also felt some in the living room and the diner space."

"Right, then. Mike, start setting up the best cameras upstairs in the small bedroom. I'll work on the ones down here. Where's Andy?"

"Upstairs. Steven has a leaky roof that needs to be covered."

"He's on the roof by himself?"

"No. Steven, here, sealed the window shut and Rourkey's trying to unseal it."

Feeling like a human beet, Steven excuses himself to the loo as Johnny races upstairs to join Andy. He splashes his face with cold water. What the hell, Steven? The only other person that ever called him Morrissey was Anji. Why did he tell Johnny that was his preferred name? Why is he acting like a bumbling idiot? Mike and Andy are both bruiser-looking blokes. Nothing too scary, but they definitely remind him of the types of boys who used to bully him in school. Johnny is an enigma. He is short and svelte, almost dainty. Yet he isn't weak or helpless looking. Far from it. His thick, black hair is shaped like a helmet. He took charge of the group as soon as he arrived. Steven thinks, with a sigh, Johnny looks like a bad boy. And he’s always been attracted to the bad boys.

******

“Alright, we’ve got a camera set up in the smaller bedroom and another one in the hallway. Then we have one in the living room and one in the diner aimed away from the windows. We don’t want to get all excited over reflections in the glass. Tonight you and Johnny should do an EVP session in the bedroom. I’ll monitor the cameras from the kitchen. Andy, you take the first sleep shift in the master bedroom.” Mike commands

Steven's house is wired, tarped and ready for Anji to appear. He moved his stuff back into her old bedroom. The Frugal Spectre crew are using the master bedroom for their sleeping quarters. He is grateful no one has complained about the lack of furniture. Even Mike looks cosy on the floor of his kitchen donning a headset and calibrating camera angles.

"At midnight, we'll start the EVP session," Johnny says between bites of a veggie sarnie.

"Why midnight?" Steven is curious.

"More superstition than anything. Looks like we have an hour to prepare. Let's go upstairs and I want you to just go through your normal before sleep routine."

This is going to be difficult. Steven feels anything but normal knowing his voice and image are being recorded and watched by strangers. He tries to block out Johnny's inquisitive, brown eyes as he puts on a Marvelettes record. He escapes to the bathroom to change into pyjamas and brush his teeth. He feels amazingly calm as he sings "It's strange, I know, but that's the way it goes. Leaving you this way, I'm sorry to say when you get home I'll be gone.."

"Brilliant!" Johnny exclaims. "I fucking love the Marvelettes, but I've got to say your voice gives Gladys Horton a run for the money."

"Surely you jest," Steven says, despising the way his face reddens with the compliment. "You like the Marvelettes? I thought they were all but forgotten in this day and age."

Johnny launches in to "Too Many Fish In The Sea" with a huge smile on his face. "I love the 60's girl groups, but don't tell anyone."

"Your secret is safe with me. Anji and I were our own girl group back in the day. Well we lip-synced with the best of them." He closes his eyes, picturing himself and his best friend with feathery boas and beads around their necks, miming into hairbrushes, swaying their hips to the forbidden pleasure of do-wop.

"Keep the music going, but I'm turning out the light. It's nearly midnight. Do you feel her presence?"

Steven nods, eyes still closed, refusing to break the connection with Anji he's feeling by speaking. He thinks to himself, 'please, please, please, show yourself'. In his mind, he tells Anji to come see this little baddie he's hanging out with in her old room. And he likes girl groups! Do you approve, Anji, love? Not like anything will come of it, but do you think he's crush-worthy?

Johnny's voice floats through the dark room, "Are you here with us, Anji Hardie?"

Steven opens his eyes and finds Johnny sitting with his back to the wall with a small electronic device in his hands.

"Can you see your old pal, Morrissey?"

Johnny pauses about thirty seconds between each question. "Do you like the music?" As he asks this, the room suddenly goes quiet. The two boys look at each other, eyes wide. Johnny motions for Morrissey to come closer and he whispers into the taller boy's ear "Put on something else she'd like."

Using his phone for a light, he carefully chooses an album. He cues up The Crystals, "Little Boy". He holds his breath as the needle drops. 

Little boy, you probably don't know it  
But on the night we met  
You stole my heart away

Little boy, can't help it if I show it  
But I wish that you would love me too  
Just as much as I love you

"Do you like this song, Anji?" Johnny says in a soft monotone. "Morrissey has great taste in music, don't you think?"

God. He's blushing in the dark. Anji, help! I'm melting here. Then he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as if pulled by static. He walks to Johnny and puts his hand on the boy's shoulder and motions behind him. It feels like she might be standing right there.

"Is that you behind Morrissey?" Pause, then "Is there something you would like to say? This machine can give you a chance to talk to Moz, here. Speak and it will record you even if we can't hear you. Go ahead, Anji. Tell him what you want to say."

Chills run up and down Steven's body. He can't hear anything, but the air is heavy. He knows his best friend his here with him in this room. "I can feel you, love," Morrissey croons. "You know how much I've missed you. Thank you. Thank you for being my friend."

The room suddenly feels warmer. She's gone. Ugh. He shouldn't have said anything.

"Ok, Moz, that was quite a session! I can't wait to listen to the playback. You definitely have some strong activity here in this room! It'll be interesting to see if Mike noticed anything on camera." Johnny is very excited. He turns on the light and double checks his device. "Get some sleep. I'm gonna relieve Mike downstairs and start going through the playback. Hopefully we'll have some good soundbites when you wake up in the morning!" And then much quieter, he says,"Don't forget you are on camera and the room is wired for sound. Keep anything you want private to yourself." He gives Steven a wink and walks out the door.

A good natured wink from a paranormal investigator shouldn't make his heart flutter, but it does. As he lays down in his pallet of blankets he can almost feel Anji's hearty approval.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the story has taken a cheesy turn. "But my faith in love is still devout..."


	4. Disturb My Natural Emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven finally has proof of Anji's ghostly existence and his life becomes far more interesting as he accompanies Johnny on errands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this story still isn't done. I'm not sure if I'll even get this chapter finished before midnight!

Steven awakens from a lovely, peaceful sleep. He feels warm as the sunlight streams in from his small window creating an arc directly to his bed. Lazily stretching and yawning, he suddenly remembers he is being watched. Then he thinks of last night with Johnny and the fact that he may hear Anji's voice from the EVP session and is up gathering clothes to wear after he showers with another blast of ice water.

Once dressed, Steven makes his way quietly down the stairs. He assumes at least one ghost hunter will be sleeping so he does his best not to disturb anyone. Andy is in his kitchen sipping on tea with a pair of headphones over his ears. He's dressed in an olive green jumpsuit with his name embroidered on the left side of his chest.

"'Morning," he calls, softly. "You and Johnny had a fantastic session last night. I don't remember anyone getting such good results the first night of an investigation."

"Really? Can I hear it?"

Andy shakes his head, his blonde bangs bounce. "Johnny will want to present it. We would prefer to have all of us here in the room when we review it. I have to go to my day job so I don't know if I'll be able to watch," he says, sadly.

"I guess I can wait til you're off work."

"That's just it. When I'm off work, Johnny's at his job. Mike is the only one of us who is doing this pretty much full time. He'll be down shortly."

"What about Johnny? Maybe we could watch it before your job?"

A low, rumbling laugh escapes Andy's lips. "Johnny's practically nocturnal, mate. You won't ever see him before noon unless he hasn't gone to bed yet."

Although Steven is disappointed, he feels a tremor of excitement at the thought of watching the footage with Johnny next to him. 

"Good morning!" Mike says with a smile. "Johnny told me about last night's success!"

"Yeah, we were just discussing that," Andy adds with a tinge of bitterness.

"Don't worry, Andy. We won't present it to Steven until you and Johnny are both home."

This earns a large smile from Andy. "Well that'll make the work day much more tolerable."

"Did you ask Steven about the hot water?"

Steven blushes yet again. "Sorry about that. I did warn Mike about it when we had our consult."

"Yeah, we knew, but can I take a look at your unit? I've had to install all kinds and maybe I can fix whatever is going on with yours," Andy says.

Refusing to get his hopes up, Steven leads Andy to the utility closet that holds the hot water heater.

"Was the house abandoned and empty?" the blonde boy asks.

"Yeah. I think it was empty for at least 6 years."

"Well some thieves made off with your copper lines. It's not even attached right now."

"How much is it gonna cost to get new lines?"

Andy and Mike look at each other. Mike speaks, "It just so happens that Johnny is an expert at, um, procuring items like this."

Steven stares at Mike, glances at Andy, who is hiding a smile behind his hand, then back to Mike. "You mean he steals them, right?"

"We never ask. I figure we are better off not knowing how he does it, in case we're ever questioned by the police. I pay him a trivial price and write it in the books so it's a legitimate transaction on our part." Mike says.

Oh great. A thief is asleep upstairs in his house. An attractive thief with excellent musical taste. Steven runs his fingers through his fluffy hair so his quiff stands extra tall. It's not like he has anything of value here anyhow.

******

After a morning of grocery shopping with Mike and cleaning the kitchen and living room while Mike ran other errands, Steven eats his lunch of yogurt and an orange.

"Good morning, beautiful!" Johnny sings out as he enters the kitchen.

Steven promptly drops the orange into his lap. 

Johnny smiles widely at the sight of the taller boy's flushed cheeks. He grabs a bag of crisps and a Coca Cola.

"What a nutritious meal," Steven comments, trying desperately to pretend the short ruffian didn't just call him beautiful.

Johnny shrugs, then holds up the Coke can,"Sweet". After he takes a swig, he lifts a crisp, "Salty. Perfectly balanced."

"Mike and Andy tell me you are the man who can fix my hot water heater."

"I am? That's news to me."

"Andy says someone made off with some copper tubing. And according to Mike, you know where to find some at a greatly discounted price."

Pouring any remaining crisp crumbs into his mouth, Johnny nods. "I think I can manage that. I have a lot of connections." He finishes off the Coke and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Where is Mike, by the way?"

"Out running errands."

"Did he take the van?"

"Yeah."

"Shit. We'll have to wait for him to come back cuz we'll need it. I know a place where we can get some copper and maybe even a couch, if you're interested."

"A couch sounds lovely. I've been meaning to go dumpster diving for a few chairs."

Johnny grins. "We'll just go on a veritable shopping spree, Mozzer."

"Mozzer?" Steven furrows his considerable eyebrows.

"Wait til you hear last night's session. You'll understand then."

Steven's feels his heart beating wildly. He's not sure if it's from the thought of hearing Anji or accompanying Johnny on a possible petty crime spree. Maybe it's both.

******

Steven finds himself riding shotgun in the van once Mike finally returned to the house. He and Johnny are both sporting sunglasses and are dressed similarly in black trousers and white t-shirts. Johnny wanted them to look as uniform as possible so as to blend in. Steven has no clue who it is they are supposed to be blending in with.

"We may have to save the couch for another day, mate." Johnny says as they cruise down to the warehouse district. "We'll be lucky to get the copper back to yours before I have to be at work."

"That's fine. I'll take warm showers over sofas any day."

"Alright. You stay in the van. Text me if you see anyone in uniform coming round."

"I don't have your number."

Johnny grabs Steven's hand and scrawls his number on his palm. "There you go," he says and winks as he hops out of the van.

Steven lets outs a long breath. He looks at Johnny's number and sees a tiny smiley face at the end of it. Why is that so adorable? Don't overthink, just enter the number in your phone before you smear it, Steven tells himself. He glances around the street from the safety of the van. Nothing out of the ordinary at all. A few workers leaned against dock doors smoking. Forklifts, people loading and unloading stuff. Nothing even remotely criminal-looking. He watches the warehouse Johnny entered. Not one person in sight there. Steven decides the life of a lookout man isn't any different than how he lives now except he's watching the outside world from a van instead of his bedroom. 

The door to the warehouse opens and Johnny emerges with a brown-haired, bearded man. They are both smoking and laughing. Johnny casually swings an arm around Beardguy's shoulders. Steven is captivated. He watches Johnny closely, studying his body language and facial expressions. How is he so comfortable with people? Beardguy must've said something funny because Johnny has thrown his head back in laughter and starts coughing. He really shouldn't smoke, Steven thinks. He's destroying his lungs. He watches as Johnny brings the cigarette to his lips, stares at the hollowing cheeks as the short boy inhales, is mesmerized when he releases the smoke from his mouth with the cigarette still dangling from his lips. Steven freezes when Johnny's sunglasses are directed at him. Oh god. He quickly looks down and plays with his phone. He can feel the heat has the tips of his ears redden. Chill out, Steven, you were just bored, no big deal. He knows he needs to look up from his phone and meet Beardguy's eyes to make it look like his staring is directed at both men, equally. But when he looks up, Johnny is standing at the window. Steven manages to stifle a shriek of surprise. He searches frantically for a way to roll down the window. Finally, Johnny just pulls the door open.

"Power windows are broken, mate," he grins. "I need you to pull the van around to the back so we can load your piping."

Steven feels himself reddening again. "I don't have a license."

"So? Neither do I."

Steven almost blanks out at that statement but manages to blurt, "I mean I don't know how to drive."

"Shit. Just a second," Johnny runs back to Beardguy and motions toward Steven with his hands. Then he strolls ever-so-casually back to the van. Steven wants to die.

"I'm sorry. I make a terrible criminal," he apologizes.

"No worries. I should've considered that you didn't drive in the first place. Lots of people in the city can't drive. It's not that big of a deal."

Once again, Steven is amazed by Johnny. Most blokes he knows of would jump at the chance to humiliate and make fun of him. 

"I can help load the piping, though," Steven offers.

There really isn't that much copper to load and they quickly close the back doors of the van and begin their drive back to the house.

"I hate to deliver and run, but I'm gonna have to get ready for work as soon as we're back. Think you can manage to unload by yourself?"

"Yes. Of course."

"Maybe you can help me with my hair when you're done?"

"Pardon?" Why would Johnny need help with his hair, of all things?

"I like your quiff. Can you help me get mine into one?"

"I can try. What kind of work do you do that your hair is important?"

Johnny smiles broadly. "I work at a clothing store in the city centre. They want me to look cool to influence kids to buy the clothes. Hair is massively important!"

"Oh, I agree. If your hair is wrong then your life is wrong*. It's nice to meet someone else who thinks similarly."

After Steven unloads the tubing into the back garden of his house, he makes his way upstairs to assist Johnny. The black-haired boy is now wearing dark blue skinny jeans, a black t-shirt and his leather motorcycle jacket. He's got a silver necklace with some kind of charm on it tucked into the collar of his shirt and several bracelets on his right arm. He makes a pleasing jingle sound as he walks. 

"We're going to need some serious pomade to get your hair to stay up."

"Oh I am the king of hair product," Johnny says and produces a bag filled every kind of gel, grease, wax and spray known to mankind.

Within 15 minutes, Steven has Johnny's hair swept up into a pompadour. "Your hair is too thick on the sides for a quiff. See, my sides are shaved."

"Yeah. I noticed that right away."

Steven doesn't know what to say to that so he just washes the sticky hair grease off his hands.

"Well I'm off. I can't wait to be done, though. You are gonna be fucking stunned with our presentation!"

The house is strangely quiet with Johnny's departure. That's when he realizes Mike is gone as well. He has his home to himself. Usually this would be a call for celebration, but for some reason, Steven just feels sad and lonely. He goes to his bedroom and stares at his books. He picks up a copy of Anne Sexton's poetry and begins to read. Oh, love why do we argue like this? I am tired of all your pious talk. Also, I am tired of the dead. They refuse to listen, so leave them alone. Take your foot out of the graveyard, they are busy being dead.

"I am not tired of you, Anji," Steven says aloud to his empty room. "Are you busy? Is being dead a busy time? I thought it was eternal rest. But what do I know. I tried to be daring with Johnny today, love. I failed at it. I can't drive and instead of looking out for authority figures, I watched Johnny smoke. Can you ask the authorities of the afterlife to protect him from cancer? My request was denied with you so I feel it's futile for me to ask. Maybe you will have better luck persuading them."

The blinking of a camera in the corner of his room reminds Steven that this is not a private conversation. Oh well. Just more evidence of how pathetic his existence is for The Frugal Spectre crew. He quietly descends the stairs like a spectre himself, lost in melancholy and self pity, when the door opens and admits a chattering Mike and Andy carrying two guitar cases.

"Steven!" Mike says. "We're going to do a little jam session while we wait for Johnny. You don't happen to play guitar, do you?"

He shakes his head. "I'll be happy just to listen."

"It's just going to be a rhythm section thing," Andy adds. "Me on bass and Mike on drums."

"Where are the drums?"

"I'm just gonna set up my snare and maybe the high hat. Don't want to get too loud." 

Steven watches the two investigators set up their equipment. When they start to play, he forgets his sadness. Even with just the drums and bass, it sounds really good. They play for a good hour, going through a variety of drum solos and fantastic bass runs. When they take a break, Steven claps enthusiastically. Everyone wanders to the kitchen for drinks and snacks and make themselves comfortable on the floor in front of the video equipment.

"So how did Johnny come by the copper?" Andy asks.

"He just picked it up from some guy at a warehouse."

"You didn't break in or anything?" Mike sounds disappointed.

"No. It didn't look illegal at all, but that may have been the point."

Both investigators nod. "That would make sense. Who knows, Johnny can charm just about anyone," says Mike.

"Speaking of charm, I wonder if he convinced Angie to go out with him yet?" Andy says.

Steven's ears perk up at this. "Anji?"

"Not your Anji. His Angie. A girl he's been trying to seduce for a couple of months now." Mike clarifies.

"Has it been that long? If she's held out that long, I'd say the odds are against Johnny." Andy wagers.

"Well you know Johnny. He does like a challenge."

Steven quietly listens to the exchange. He is clueless when it comes to dating and relationships. Just talking to people is difficult enough let alone trying to win someone's heart. He prefers his admiration from afar. It's much safer. No rejection, no disappointment, no pressure. 

"Steven? You ok?" Mike and Andy are looking at him.

"Sorry. I was woolgathering. Did you say something?"

Mike grins wolfishly," Just wondering if you've got any birds you're pining for."

"Me? I'm not really interested in relationships. Too complicated and messy."

Andy nods, "Yeah. Really messy. How about hook ups? All the pleasure, none of the mess."

Steven blushes at the thought. "Not really my thing."

"You a virgin, Steven?" Mike asks, raising his eyebrows in a teasing gesture. Andy elbows Mike in the ribs. "What?"

Andy rolls his eyes. "For Christ's sake, Mike. He's a client. It's none of our business."

"I think I'm just going to go upstairs and read until Johnny gets here." Steven is having flashbacks to the relentless bullying he endured in school. Why people are so interested in his private life is baffling. He isn't attracted to anyone enough to act on it. He isn't a virgin, though, not that it's anybody's business. He's had what he thinks of as pity sex. That's when you feel sorry for someone and end up having sex with them to try and cheer them up. He's been on both sides of the pity sex relationship. Both suck. On the giving side, it didn't work. The girl was still a sad mess, and he felt like a failure. The receiving end was even worse. The girl was nice enough. She certainly tried hard. But he ended up just going through the motions like a zombie. And then rumors started that he must be gay because of his lack of enthusiasm. Maybe he is gay. He's at least bi-sexual. Just more reason to admire from a distance.

There is a soft knock on his bedroom door. "Come in," he says and puts his book down, but keeps his glasses on.

"I just want to apologize for Mike. We are just so comfortable with you, it doesn't feel like a typical business set up." Andy says from the doorway.

"Really?" Steven is surprised.

"Yeah, you're like one of us," Andy laughs as he sits down next to Steven. "Not sure if that's a compliment though."

Steven's quiet for a moment, thinking about the weird feeling of loneliness he had earlier in the afternoon. "I'll take it as a compliment. I think I like you guys, too."

"Think?"

"Well this is only the third day I've known you. There's still time for me to change my mind."

Both boys laugh and the awkward feelings fall by the wayside.

"Mike can be a bit of a horn dog. He thinks everyone's as interested in fucking as he is."

"Are you?"

"Nah. I'm more selective than Mike. He'll jump anything with a pulse."

"I heard that!" Mike says sheepishly from the door. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry, Steven. That was really unprofessional of me. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"Thank you. I prefer to keep my private life private, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. Friends then?" Mike asks, extending his hand.

Steven shakes it and Andy gives him a gentle pat on the back. All three descend the stairs to wait for Johnny.

******

Steven keeps messing with his hair as he not-so-patiently waits for The Frugal Spectre crew to start their presentation.

"For fucks sake, Mike, back off. I know what I'm doing!" Johnny shoos Mike away. "Ok. Morrissey, come sit next to me."

Mike begins narrating. "If you watch the video, keep your eyes on the right corner."

Steven watches and Andy squeezes in for a closer look. "What am I looking for?"

"Just watch. You'll see it." Johnny says with pride.

Morrissey can see Johnny sitting in his room. Then he sees himself walking around. "What is that?" he asks as a bluish orb seems to float behind him.

"Holy shit!" Andy exclaims. "I've never seen one so clearly."

"We think that might be energy from your friend," Mike explains. "We are going to add the audio to this."

A shiver runs up Morrissey's back as Mike and Johnny coordinate the audio and video segments. They watch and listen as Johnny starts the EVP session.

"Remember, this isn't audio from the EVP, just what's recorded in the room," Johnny says. They hear the gentle sound of the Marvelettes and Johnny asking questions. The orb appears behind Steven as Johnny asks if Anji can see him. It is still there when Johnny asks about the music and the record stops playing. The orb disappears when Steven changes the record. But when Johnny asks if Anji likes his taste in music, it reappears hovering over Steven's shoulder. Once Steven begins to speak, it seems to flicker and slowly fades away.

"Oh my God!" Steven can't believe it. He knew he felt her presence! And now he has proof!

Andy asks excitedly, "Can we hear the EVP now?"

Johnny gets his device and connects it to his computer. "I think this is the best part!"

He plays the recording.

"Are you here with us, Anji Hardie?" Crackling and static pop through the speakers and then a faint giggle.

"Can you see your old pal, Morrissey?" More static hissing then a faint female voice says "Mozzer"

"Do you like the music?" More giggling through the static.

Once the music changes, Johnny asked "Morrissey has great taste in music, don't you think?" A very clear "yes" is heard.

"Is that you behind Morrissey?" A staticky "yes" can be heard.

Finally Johnny tells the spirit to say whatever she wants to Morrissey. Through the static, it almost sounds like a complete sentence, but it's too crackly for Steven to understand.

"Let's clean up the audio on that one, " Mike says, adjusting some settings.

When the question is replayed, Morrissey is stunned to hear. "Misery Mozery. Go for it. He's exciting."

Mike and Johnny are perplexed by the last word. "Sounds like exiting to me," Mike says.

"I dunno. Could be kind of a run-on of 'go outside and' and she doesn't finish" Johnny suggests.

With tears in his eyes and a blush on his cheeks, Steven tells them exactly what she said.

Andy is confused. "But it still doesn't make sense. Assuming Steven is Misery Mozzery, why does she say go for it? What does that have to do with him being exciting?"

"Well Moz knew her in real life so I bet his interpretation is right. And there is one more thing. As Morrissey was talking to her at the end, she responded. We really had to cut out the background, so Moz is going to sound like he's mumbling so we can actually hear her."

All four men strain to hear Anji's next words. "Shhhhhh. Mozzer. Just go for it."

"That's amazing! That was our best session ever!" Andy is stoked. 

The three Frugal Spectre investigators are marveling over their equipment. Morrissey remains glued to his spot on the floor in front of the monitors. Anji could hear his thoughts. He didn't have to speak them out loud. She wants Steven to go after Johnny. He closes his eyes and thinks to himself. Anji, love, I'm scared. I just want to look at him, maybe be his friend. That would be enough for me. Honestly, he adds to his thoughts, mainly to convince himself.

******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * "If your hair is wrong, your life is wrong" is a quote I read that was attributed to Morrissey, so not an original thought by me.
> 
> I still don't know how this is going to end so I will continue plugging away at it.


	5. Conundrum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven thinks of a million and one reasons not to pursue Johnny but can you really argue with the dead?

While brushing his teeth, Steven mentally lists all the reasons why a real relationship with Johnny won't work. He hopes Anji is floating around nearby to hear his thoughts. Number One: Johnny is straight. He'd probably beat the shit out of Steven for even thinking about him in that way. Number 2: Even if Johnny wasn't straight, he wouldn't be attracted to Steven. He's too tall, too skinny, too nearsighted, too boring...well you get the picture. Number 3: Johnny could become his best friend. Steven feels as comfortable talking and laughing with Johnny as he did with Anji (When he's not drooling over the boy's looks. No. Wait. Scratch that thought, Anji, if you are listening). Number 4: Even his thoughts are awkward! Number 5: Any kind of physical intimacy freaks Steven out. Seriously. 

So after this delightful mental assault on his character, he is finally ready for bed. He closes his eyes and tries desperately to will his mind to sleep. Please, stop thinking. He pictures himself with his eyes closed, fingers in his ears, singing LaLaLaLaLaLa to shut out the noise that is his brain. Then he hears quiet laughter very close by. He opens his eyes to see Johnny leaning over him. "What?" he asks, surprised and a tad embarrassed.

"I was watching the monitors and it looked like you were twitching or something so I came up here to see if you were alright. You started making weird noises and I just couldn't help laughing," Johnny explains.

"You woke me up."

"Oh please. Who goes LaLaLaLaLa in their sleep?"

Well this is just great. Apparently he was singing out loud to his mental demons. Reason Number 6: He is insane. "I was trying to sleep, if that counts for anything."

"I just wanted to make sure you weren't possessed. We had a case of demonic possession one time. Scared the shit out of Mike and Andy."

"But not you?"

Johnny sits on the floor beside Moz's makeshift bed. "Not really. It was so fucked up. Definitely out of our league. We recommended the homeowner seek religious help or find some other kind of exorcist. You don't play around with demons."

"I would think not."

Silence descends on the room. Morrissey isn't sure if he should lay back down, try to talk or maybe just get up and head to the loo for escape.

"Would you mind if I brought my guitar up here and played? I won't plug in or anything. Mike went off to bed and it's kind of dull just sitting downstairs by myself."

"I guess so. I've never been serenaded to sleep before."

Johnny flashes a charming smile at Moz and leaves the room in a rush. Morrissey can hear some shuffling and bumping downstairs, then the boy's quick footsteps on the stairs.

“Don’t think I’m rude, but I am quite tired,” Steven says in an act of self-preservation. The last thing he needs is video evidence of him crushing on Johnny.

“Yeah, go ahead and sleep, Moz. It’s more fun watching you sleep in person than on a video monitor.”

Oh god. What is that supposed to mean? Is he hinting at something? Steven manages to squeak out “I’m glad I’m so entertaining to you.”

“Shhhh. You need your beauty rest.” And then Johnny begins to play his guitar.

Moz closes his eyes and listens to the light strumming. He regulates his breathing to the beat to calm his racing thoughts. The strums become a waterfall of notes cascading through his brain. All thoughts evaporate and he only hears the music. It’s as comforting as his duvet, warmer than a hug and his mind is blissfully blank.

******

It’s dark when Morrissey awakens. His feet feel extraordinarily heavy. What the hell? He sits up and sees Johnny curled up beside his bed like a dog. His head is resting on Moz’s feet. Johnny looks so cute. And cold. Steven sighs and struggles with his duvet. He manages to wrap it around Johnny’s torso without moving his feet. The boy responds instantly to the warmth by moaning and curling into a tighter ball. Morrissey wonders if he should try to pull Johnny onto his pallet. He can’t be comfortable with his legs uncovered. He carefully extracts his feet from under Johnny’s head and pulls on the duvet trying to drag the shorter boy onto his pile of blankets. 

“What’s going on?” Johnny asks, sleepily.

“You were making my feet numb.”

“Huh?”

“Just roll over.”

Johnny still must be half asleep because he rolls over without questioning right on to the pallet of blankets. Steven arranges the duvet so that is covers them both and he tucks a blanket around Johnny’s feet. Satisfied that his friend is now comfortable and warm, he turns his back to Johnny and falls back to sleep.

******

The first thing Steven notices when he wakes is the gloomy, grey tint to the sky out his window. Then he hears the gentle patter of raindrops on the plastic tarps covering his roof. Ahhh. Thank god for that. His bed is still warm and dry. He lays on his back, blinking at the ceiling when an arm suddenly flops across his chest and a small hand attached to said arm grips his side in a strange embrace. Johnny! Shit, he forgot that Johnny was sleeping with him. Well, sleeping beside him. In his bed. Shit. He turns his head and is nose to nose with his friend. Steven can't help but take in the expression on his face. His eyes are closed, although he can't really get a good look at them because his black bangs cover everything but his fine eyelashes. Steven can feel the boy's breath warm against his face as he takes smooth, even puffs of air. Johnny is smiling in his sleep. It is a closed lip smile that exudes happiness and peace. Steven forgets to breathe gazing at his friend. He really wants to reach out and stroke the boy's pale cheek, feel the softness and warmth of his skin against his fingertips. He wonders if Anji has anything to do with this, somehow throwing them together this way. With thoughts of Anji comes the realization that his room is being recorded and that right now at this very minute, Mike and Andy might be watching him ogle Johnny in his bed.

Steven leaps up as if he were stung. For once, the idea of a cold shower sounds great. The ice water should put out any flames of desire his treacherous body is trying to kindle. Johnny groans and rolls into the warm spot where Moz was resting just a second ago. Don't look at him, Steven. Get your things and head to the shower. He turns on the water. What fresh hell is this? The water is warm, of course. Besides making bathing a far more enjoyable experience, this change also signifies that Andy is indeed awake and has been busy working this morning. Hopefully too busy to notice what was going on in the smaller bedroom of this house.

******

“You fixed the hot water heater!” Steven says slightly overzealously, when he sees Andy in the kitchen. He is taking control of the conversation, steering it carefully away from himself.

“Yeah! Shower felt good this morning, right?” Andy boasts.

“A welcome surprise. I’m amazed you had time to fix it before work.”

“It’s raining. My construction site’s too dangerous when it’s wet, so I have the day off.”

“We might actually be able to get in some practice!” Mike adds as he joins the two boys in the kitchen.

“Practice for what?”

“Our band. You heard me and Mike yesterday. Johnny takes us to a whole other dimension with his guitar.”

“You must be the most interesting ghost hunters in Britain.”

"We'd like to be musicians and ghost hunters instead of bookkeeper/construction worker/retail store/musician/ghost hunters. Maybe one day," Andy says with a sigh.

Mike's mobile phone rings and he backs up into the living room to take the call.

"I wonder if that's about a new case," Andy says, a worried look in his green eyes.

"That would be a good thing, right? More cases, more money."

"But we've just scratched the surface of your case. Tonight we'll do some magnetic field work and more EVP sessions in different parts of the house." 

"Still, the investigation here should wrap up by Sunday. You'll need somewhere new to go."

Andy looks really confused now. "What are you on about? You signed up for the Engraved Stone package. That means we stay here a month, not a week."

Steven opens his mouth, "But.." Steven closes his mouth. He scratches his head. "It was a week. It said a week on the website."

"Nothing to worry about. My uncle wants me to come by and do the books for his store tomorrow," Mike says, as he walks back into the kitchen.

"I thought you were only going to live here for a week during the investigation?" Steven accosts Mike.

"But you signed up for the Engraved Stone investigation."

"Steven said the Engraved Stone package listed only a one week investigation." Andy adds.

"No. That's the Unmarked Grave."

Steven uses his phone and shows Mike and Andy the link to the Engraved Stone package. "See. It says one week of investigation, three weeks of analysis."

"Yeah, see," Mike points. "One week of investigating, three weeks analysis. 1 plus 3 is 4. Four weeks equals a month!"

"But I didn't know you'd be living here for the analysis! This is deceptive advertising!"

"It was Johnny's idea," Mike shrugs.

Of course it would be Johnny's idea. Stealing copper, living rent-free for months at a time at the expense of innocent homeowners, driving without a license, leather-wearing, good-smelling, hot, little Johnny Marr. Steven sits on the floor of his kitchen. Besides the shock of knowing he will have houseguests for an entire month, nothing has really changed, has it? He tries to calm down and not panic. He is kind of enjoying talking to Mike and Andy. And he is more than a little curious about their band. Then the added benefit of Johnny's company for a bit longer. If everything were in working order in the house, this might be tolerable. It's going to be so quiet when The Frugal Spectre departs. He can't even talk to Anji without their help. An idea slowly forms in his mind. No. He can't be seriously thinking of..."Do you think Johnny will kill me if I wake him up this early?"

"Well you are kind of upset. Just wake him up and yell at him like you did us. But don't show any fear," Mike says, jokingly.

"You both are coming with me." Steven demands.

The three boys go up to Steven's room where Johnny is sprawled diagonal across the pallet, only his head sticking out from under the duvet. Steven looks at Mike and Andy and whispers," Should I really yell at him?"

"Johnny! Wake up, you twat! Steven's got a bone to pick with you!" Mike yells, taking matters into his own hands.

"What the fuck?" Johnny is upright, rubbing his eyes with his fists. His hair is adorably mussed. "Wait. Is this about me sleeping in your room?" Johnny asks, realizing he has taken over Steven's bed.

"No. But I need you fully conscious because I have a proposal for all of you," Steven says, making eye contact with all three investigators.

"Can I use the loo first?" 

"Of course."

Johnny hobbles down the hall. Mike and Andy exchange glances with each other. Andy chews on his finger nails. Mike begins to pace. Steven feels slightly sick to his stomach at what he's about to suggest. "Why don't we have a sit."

They form a seated semi-circle in Steven's room. Johnny takes his place between Moz and Andy. 

"Well, let's hear it," Johnny says, putting on a brave face.

"I just discovered that I've been suckered into housing you lot for a month versus the week I was expecting."

"If you look at the website..." Johnny begins.

"We already showed him," Mike interrupts.

"Well the website clearly states..." Johnny again tries to explain.

"Fuck the website. You move from victim to victim so you can live rent free for months on end." Steven states, very calmly, he thinks.

"Not really. Not victims. Clients. And it really is the best thing for all of us." Johnny's face is a fetching shade of pink. "So I named the low end package The Unmarked Grave hoping that no one would want that package on name alone. That's skillful marketing, not deceptive. And who would be willing to go all in with an expensive package like The Mausoleum from a company called The Frugal Spectre? So we designed The Engraved Stone to benefit everyone involved.

"You can't find a place to let on a month to month basis. And we have expensive equipment. It's not worth the risk of having it stolen out of a place that we could afford," Andy says. "It fucking sucks living in the van between jobs, but it's the only way right now."

Steven closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "How about we draw up an actual lease? You can use this house as a home base for a year in exchange for a bit of rent." He has said the words, there's no turning back now. "You can see I'm skint. No furniture, no food, no furnace, tarps on the roof. I don't think I can wing the repair costs by myself. I'd probably have to work three jobs."

The three men are silent. Andy has a hopeful look on his face. "Um, how much rent are we talking about?" Johnny asks.

Morrissey gets his laptop and pulls up a spreadsheet. "This is my current budget. This figure right here is my house payment. I'll add in how much the new roof and furnace will cost. We can divide it by 5. I'll pay the amount of two people since I'm the owner. You would each owe this." He shows them a figure. 

"How about you divide it by 6. You as owner, would pay for half, and we split the other half three ways," Johnny counters.

Steven shows that figure to the others. "How does that look to you? Do you want a moment to discuss it amongst yourselves?" He can't believe he is doing this.

The Frugal Spectre crew walk to the other bedroom and close the door. Paying half would still be better than having to find multiple hideous jobs. And he actually likes these people, which is better than taking in strangers. Surely his empty house is better than living in a van. God, is he really trying to mentally persuade them to stay?

Johnny leads his contingency back into Steven's room. "It's a deal, mate."

Steven nods. He doesn't trust himself to speak. If his mother thought he was nuts for buying the house, she would surely have him committed for taking in a shady crew of paranormal investigators as lodgers.

Andy smiles, "I can give you recommendations for furnace installation."

"I would greatly appreciate that." he manages to say.

"Would you consider sharing your room?" Johnny asks. "Three is a crowd in the other bedroom."

Oh no. No, no, no, no. Steven needs his privacy. "You managed with the three of you living in a van!" 

"But that was only for short stints. This is a year." Johnny pleads.

Having Johnny so close all the time is a terrifying thought. He's already embarrassingly infatuated with the boy. And then what if Johnny brought someone home for the night? Would Steven be trapped in his own bedroom whilst Johnny and some girl...Oh dear god, just no!

"I won't bring any overnight guests without arranging it beforehand. I'll not come up to bed until after you're asleep, even."

"Am I that transparent?" Steven blushes.

"You look like you ate rotten fish." Johnny says. "I am begging you, by the way. Mike snores. Please help. Pretty please."

Johnny's eyes are big, brown saucers. He really does look pathetic, like a lost puppy. Be strong, Steven. Do not cave. "Alright, I guess," he speaks the words while his brain quietly scolds. What the hell are you doing to yourself, Steven?

******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the story keeps meandering. I'm sorry. I had no idea when I started this it would be such a long and twisted tale.


	6. Pride and Poltergeists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny has a date. Morrissey mopes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PGish rated boy on boy make out session toward the end.
> 
> To experience the proper mood of this chapter, I highly recommend listening to these songs: She's Not Dead - Suede, Again I Go Unnoticed - Dashboard Confessional, Strange & Beautiful (I'll Put A Spell on You) - Aqualung, Ghost - Indigo Girls, He Needs Me - Nina Simone, Break Your Heart - The Gaslight Anthem, Love You So Bad - Ezra Furman, Maps - Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Superstar - Carpenters, No Distance Left to Run - Blur. This is just 10 songs out of two hours worth of this particular playlist. Musical angst across the decades!

The glassed-in diner area is now a make-shift music studio. Guitar stands, amplifiers and Mike's entire drum kit fill the room. Steven's house isn't nearly as empty as it was this morning. He can't figure out how all this stuff fit into that van. 

"This is going to be fucking fantastic!" Johnny says, as he lovingly picks up a guitar and begins to tune it with Andy's bass. 

Mike is happily tightening screws and bolts as he completes the assembly of his kit. "I am so glad you chose The Frugal Spectre for your paranormal needs, mate."

Steven sits on the floor watching the three boys gleefully prepare to play. Johnny walks back to Mike and motions for Andy. They form a huddle of sorts. After a short, mumbling discussion, Johnny steps up to the microphone. Mike counts them off and Steven cannot believe what he hears. Johnny's vocal range struggles with the melody, but this is unmistakably "Born To Be Together" by The Ronettes. 

"Morrissey! I need your help," Johnny speaks into the microphone. "I'm butchering this!"

Steven violently shakes his head no. Johnny launches into off-key caterwauling. For fuck's sake. He can't take it., "Alright, you win, Johnny. Just please stop singing!"

The band stops playing as Steven hesitantly steps up to the mike. He has to raise the stand and he taps it a couple of times to get the feel of the sound.

"Ready, Mozzer?" Johnny asks and points to Mike to count them off once again as Steven nods. He gently croons:

The moment I saw you  
My heart knew it was forever  
You touched me  
And I swear I vowed then and there that I'd never  
No I'd never want somebody else to hold me  
Let another's arms enfold me  
Never ever  
Want nobody but you

They go through the entire song. Steven can't believe he is enjoying himself so much. Johnny smiles at him every time he steps up to sing harmony. They shuffle around each other in the tight space of the diner. When the song is over he can't help but think this is the most fun he's had since Anji's passing in this very house. It's a sobering realization.

"Come on. Sing some more!" Johnny calls out as Steven makes his way to the kitchen.

"I need water. My throat is scratchy." This excuse satisfies Johnny and the band launches into a Franz Ferdinand cover.

Steven leans against the counter and closes his eyes. Angie, love, I cannot thank you enough. Somehow I think I owe all this to you. I can't wait to talk to you tonight, he thinks to himself and hopefully to the spirit of his adolescent best friend.

Johnny is playing an unfamiliar tune. Andy joins in on the bass and Mike starts a snappy beat. It's bewitching, this music. It reminds Steven of the words and phrases he scribbled in notebooks and journals boxed in his room upstairs. Maybe it is time to pull them out again. He'd always thought of his ramblings as poetry but some of the best poetry ends up as lyrics to songs. He is about to share this idea with the band when the music stops.

"Hey, Moz, can you help me with my hair again?" Johnny calls from the lounge.

"Of course," he answers and falls into step behind the shorter boy on the stairway.

"I'm going for the complete greaser look tonight. I finally convinced this girl I've had my eye on for months to go to dinner. I think she's into the '50's style."

"Who could resist your slicked-back pompadour and leather jacket?" Steven manages to say even though his heart is in his throat.

"I know, right? I just want things to be perfect. It's gonna kill me at work. Time is gonna stand still, I just know it," Johnny sighs.

"Unless she stops by the store."

"You think she'd do that?"

"If I was going out with someone I liked, I'd find a way to spend as much time with them as possible." Like inviting them to live in your house for a year and share a bedroom...

"I hope your right, Mozzer. You should see this girl. She is gorgeous. The curve of her hips, holy shit, Moz, she's like a pin-up. Maybe that's why I'm doing the '50's thing. That's her era, mate."

"She sounds too good to be true." Steven forces himself to stare at his hands as he shapes Johnny's hair into an Elvis replica. He tries not to feel how soft and silky it is before he adds the grease. He refuses to glance in the mirror at Johnny's pink lips.

"Yeah. I'm kind of worried about that. I've had so many imaginary conversations with her and pictured us in so many different scenarios that I'm scared the real thing may not be as good."

Steven pauses for a moment. "I do that all the time. It is so disappointing." He stops short of telling Johnny how many times he's discovered the objects of his affection are witless bores. Secretly, he hopes this girl turns out to be horrid.

"I'm still hopeful, though. I've eavesdropped on her conversations with her friends. She is a gem."

"Well, that's the best I can do," Steven says, washing his hands of the styling goo and the conversation.

"Thanks, Moz! And thanks for listening to me ramble. Mike and Andy constantly interrupt and make lewd comments. I would never admit that I'm nervous to them. I'd never hear the end of it."

"My lips are sealed," Steven assures.

"I'll see you tonight after my date. We have some more ghost hunting to do!"

Steven gives a pathetic wave and locks himself in his bedroom. He can hear Johnny tromping down the stairs. It is time to breakout one of his most beloved Spotify playlists, the one he's titled Heavy Hitters of Intolerable Sadness. He puts his headphones over his ears and starts the symphony with Aqualung's 'Strange And Beautiful':

I've been watching your world from afar  
I've been trying to be where you are  
And I've been secretly falling apart, unseen  
To me, you're strange and you're beautiful  
You'd be so perfect with me  
But you just can't see  
You turn every head but you don't see me  
I'll put a spell on you  
You'll fall asleep when I put a spell on you  
And when I wake you I'll be the first thing you see  
And you'll realize that you love me

Johnny's just a friend. That's all he can ever be. Steven doesn't know how his feelings got so fucking strong so fucking fast. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He opens a box full of his journals, grabs one and he writes, 'I know it's over and it never really began but in my heart it was so real.' Now that needs to be in a song. Because that is the story of his life. He sinks further into his pity party with songs from Radiohead and Suede. The music is comforting. He doesn't feel so alone in his misery. He continues to write. 'I was looking for a job and then I found a job and heaven knows I'm miserable now. In my life, why do I give valuable time to people who don't care if I live or die?'. The words flow onto the paper like blood from a wound. Broken hearts and disappointment, the best muses for sad, lonely poets. The annoying beeping and vibrating of his mobile interrupts his thoughts.

"Calling out for pizza. What do you want?" Andy

He almost types "hemlock" in response, but Andy and Mike have no idea that he's crushing on Johnny and he wants to keep it that way. "Green peppers and mushrooms" Steven. Pizza does sound lovely. Warm food. Something besides yogurt and crisps. He pauses Gaslight Anthem's "Break Your Heart" and he decides to join the living downstairs.

"What did you think of our band?" Andy asks.

"You were fantastic. What was that last song you played? I'm not familiar with it."

"Something Johnny came up with. A lot of times we'll just start playing and improvise. It's always fun and challenging because you kind of just go by feel and sound and you don't know what's coming next."

"Impressive!" Steven is floored. To be able to come up with fast-paced music on the fly is incredible.

Mike walks in with the pizza. The smell alone lifts Steven's spirits. He doesn't feel like such an idiot for taking in these boys as housemates. As he helps himself to the food, he focuses entirely on Mike and Andy's friendly banter, refusing to think of the short, black-haired boy who shares his room.

******

"We're gonna do EMF work tonight so let me show how this gadget works before Johnny gets here," Mike says, showing Steven the small black device in his hand.

"We should train up Steven. Then we could split into pairs for investigations, especially since we have an actual place to live," Andy adds as he adjusts cameras and audio equipment.

"Really? You'd let me join The Frugal Spectre?"

"Oh yeah. We already consider you one of us. 'Course we'd need to run it by Johnny first since you would be investigating with him," Mike adds.

"Oh." 

"You don't like Johnny?" both boys say at the same time.

Steven blushes. He's got to come up with a logical reason why he doesn't want to partner with Johnny. "We're sharing a room. I was kind of counting on investigations giving us a break from each other."

"I'm just gonna be honest. Johnny and I would kill each other without Andy here to calm things down. We both like to take the lead." Mike says.

"And they both think their idea is the best. Me and Mike are the rhythm section of our band. We work really well together. I know how he thinks, which is a really good thing during an investigation," Andy says. Steven can tell this is a losing battle. 

"Tell me about this EMF thing," he changes the subject.

After 30 minutes of playing with the EMF detector, he feels completely at ease and is ready to start investigating. He wants to check out the hallway upstairs. He's definitely had feelings of dread and sadness up there which might be caused by electro-magnetic fields. But Johnny still isn't back from his date. "Can't we start without him?" Steven is impatient.

"Yeah, you and Andy go on upstairs. I'll stay here and monitor the cameras."

Andy takes the lead. "Right. Have you felt any weird sensations on the stairs?"

"No. It's always been the hallway."

Andy turns the EMF detector on and notes the reading. "3.0 that's a pretty normal, safe reading So we'll use that as a baseline."

Steven holds the flashlight and looks around the hallway. Yes. There it is again, that feeling of dread and sadness. "Do you feel it, or is it just me?" 

"I can feel a change. Let's see what the detector says," Andy presses the button on the device and lights shoot up out of the green register to yellow. "7.5, not necessarily paranormal or dangerous, but definitely more than the stairs."

The two boys enter the master bedroom. Steven hasn't spent much time in here and none of the investigators has mentioned anything about bad feelings. "Can I try it in here?" he asks.

Andy hands the device over and Steven presses the "measure" button. A few lights illuminate in the green register. "3.0, so your room isn't affected."

They walk to Steven's room. He doesn't feel it as intensely as in the hallway, but there is a lingering feeling of sadness. That may be of his own doing from tonight's conversation with Johnny. He looks down at the EMF detector, 5.0, but still green.

"Let's go back into the hallway. We'll monitor it to see if there are any changes in EMF levels. If it hangs around 7.5, we'll know it's probably something with the electrical wiring," Andy says.

Steven sits down in the hall facing his room's door. He thinks of Anji. See, love. I told you it was useless to pursue Johnny. He's straight and likes curvy girls, not skinny, nerd boys like me. He's still pretty to look at. And he plays a beautiful guitar.

"Shit!"

"What is it?" Steven is jolted back to the present.

"EMF just spiked at 12," Andy looks around, squinting. "That's got to be paranormal. Is someone here with us?"

"Anji, is that you, love? Stand in front of Andy. He has a device that can detect your presence. It won't hurt you, it's like getting your picture taken."

Andy slides the device in front of Steven. The lights are fluttering between 12 and 15. He closes his eyes and tries to feel Anji's presence in his mind. She must want to tell him something.

Just then, the two boys hear the front door open and a female voice ask "Why is it so dark in here?'

"They must've started without me!" Johnny's voice. "You can't have a good ghost hunt with the lights on."

"I guess we should go downstairs..." Andy begins but is cut off by a loud door slam.

"What the hell!" Johnny yells at the same time his female friend screams.

Steven turns on the hall light. He doesn't want to fall down the stairs and he hopes that the light will interrupt this new, violent activity in his house.

The four boys and one girl meet in the kitchen. "Look at this!" Mike says and points to the monitor showing the living room. He rewinds the frames and Steven stares in disbelief as the water closet door opens and slams shut by itself.

"That's never happened before," Steven says, unbelievably calm. 

"Hey, guys, this is Angie. She wanted to see what this was all about. Are you ok with it, Steven?' Johnny says.

Steven takes in the short, dark-haired girl. She is wearing ruby red lipstick and is dressed in a black and white polka dot halter dress, very Marilyn Monroe-like. "Hello, it's nice to meet you," he recovers his manners and extends his hand to the girl. "This is my home and, well, these fellows are my lodgers, but you already know that, I'm sure. You're welcome to watch our investigation. I think you'll agree that the place is definitely haunted." He takes a deep breath and watches the girl's face.

With a sassy smirk, she punches Johnny gently in the arm. "You're just trying to scare me." She turns her attention back to Steven, "I was telling Johnny at dinner that I don't believe in ghosts. So I'm here for whatever sound and light show you have in store for tonight."

"It's not a show," Mike says. "This is the real deal. But it is the first time we've witnessed doors opening and closing by themselves. Steven, you take Johnny and Angie upstairs. Johnny, take the Spirit Box and do an EVP session in the hallway."

The lights are turned off once the two ghost hunters and one skeptic are in place upstairs in the hallway.

"Anji, are you here tonight?" Johnny asks.

"What the hell, Johnny. I'm right here," the wrong Angie answers.

"No, love. The spirit in this house is named Anji, with a "j".

"Well that's convenient. How do you know that?"

Johnny sighs and turns off the Spirit Box. "Do you want to explain it, Steven?"

"Not really, Johnny. I want to go on with the investigation. Andy and I already had some interesting EMF data. I know she's here now. I don't want to miss her." Steven has no desire to entertain or impress this girl. He doesn't want her negativity to disrupt this session. He knows Anji needs to speak with him.

"Anji was Steven's childhood friend who passed away in 2006. This was her house." Johnny tells his Angie.

"Can we get on with the EVP session now?" Steven knows he is being rude, but he doesn't care. 

Johnny starts again," Anji, are you here tonight?" Pause. "Was that you slamming the door?"

The door to the hall bath slams closed. Angie let's out a shrill half-shriek.

"Is that a yes, Anji?" Johnny asks the Spirit Box.

It now sounds as if the shower in the bathroom is running. Steven and Johnny make eye contact. Angie grabs onto Johnny's arm. "If that is you, can you turn off the shower?" he says.

The water still runs. Steven walks slowly to the bathroom. "Johnny, should I open the door?"

Johnny nods and Angie hides behind him.

Taking a deep breath, Steven wraps his fingers around the doorknob and slowly turns it. The door opens easily. The bathroom is steamy. "Oh my God!" Steven exclaims while he snaps some pictures with his mobile.

"What? What is it?" Johnny asks.

"She wrote a message on the mirror."

"Well what does it say?"

But Steven is too busy taking pictures and pondering what on earth has gotten into Anji tonight.

Johnny detaches Angie from his back and walks into the bathroom. He stops, awestruck.

"Johnny? What is it? Is it bad?" Angie asks as she walks to the bathroom.

Scrawled on the steam-covered mirror are the words GET OUT.

"Really?" Angie snorts. "That's as creative as you can get, Steven?"

"I didn't.."

The water turns off.

"Ouch!" Angie says and grabs at her hair.

"What?" both boys ask at the same time.

"Someone pulled my hair!"

"Anji, can you touch us? Can you pull my hair, too?" Johnny asks. "Shit!"

"Did she pull your hair?" Steven asks, eyes huge.

Johnny nods, rubbing the back of his head. "And pretty fucking hard, too."

"Anji, love, is it me? Have I upset you? Should I leave?" Steven asks. He felt so certain that she had welcomed the three other boys into the house. Why the sudden change of heart?

The door to his bedroom slams. "Should we follow her?" he asks Johnny.

"I, I dunno. I've never dealt with anything like this before," Johnny is truly puzzled.

"I'll follow her. I want to see how you're doing this," Angie smirks at Johnny.

"No, wait, Ange." Johnny tries to stop her. "This isn't me. Honest. I don't want you to get hurt!"

It sounds like books are being thrown about in the bedroom.

Angie boldly opens the door only to be hit in the face by "The Complete Works of Oscar Wilde", hardback edition, of course.

"My nose! Fuck!" Angie cradles her now bleeding nose with her hands.

"Oh shit. I'm sorry, Angie. I tried to warn..."

"Don't fucking touch me, you little freak! This isn't funny. God, I should have listened to my friends." Angie stomps down the stairs with Johnny on her heels."They said you were bad, but I pictured bad as in hot, not as in a fucking dick!"

"Wait...Let me explain" Johnny says as he races out the front door behind his would-be girlfriend.

Steven is still upstairs in his room. Anji has trashed the place. She's turned over all of his boxes of books. His journals are scattered everywhere. Thank god she didn't throw anything heavy at the window. "Why, love?" he asks. He took the Spirit Box from Johnny before he ran after Angie. "I'm so sorry if I've angered you. That was never my intention. I was just so lonely..." He stops talking. He really doesn't want the others to know that he was so lonely and friendless and hopeless, he was willing to wallow in the memories of the life he had at age 12. That his 12 year-old self felt more of a sense of belonging and value than he does as an adult man. He never recovered from the loss of the one friend he had in this world. Anji, who loved him, quirks and all, was snatched away by cancer two weeks after she turned 13.

The lights in the hallway are back on. Mike and Andy join Steven in his room. Mike is snapping pictures of the results from the melee with a camera. "What happened?" Andy asks.

"I really don't know. She just became violent when Johnny started the EVP session." He shows the other two investigators the picture of the steamy bathroom message.

"Is she angry about us moving in?" Mike asks.

Steven shakes his head. "I don't think that's it. I mean it might be, but I honestly thought she supported the idea." He struggles with the explanation. How can he tell his friends that he thinks Anji's ghost somehow brought them all together, especially after tonight's episode?

"Why don't we do some analysis on the Spirit Box. Maybe she'll tell us what's wrong," Andy suggests.

"What about Johnny? He was the one who started the session. And it was his girlfriend that Anji injured."

"You don't think she'll sue us, do you?' Mike asks.

"Oh, fuck. I didn't think about that," Andy groans.

Steven sighs. "All I wanted was to continue the investigation. I didn't want Johnny's friend here. She was rather nasty in her opinions of the paranormal."

"Maybe that's what your spirit reacted to. Negative energy begets negative energy," Mike says.

Johnny walks through the front door. His once perfect pompadour is now skewed, with tufts of hair pointing in every direction.

"That did not go as planned at all," he says, twisting his fingers into his black locks.

"No shit. What were you thinking?" Mike starts in. "Is her nose broken? Is she going to sue us?"

"I don't know! I don't know if her nose is broken. She was going to casualty to get it checked out. I offered to go with her and pay for it but she told me to fuck off."

"No more skeptics allowed during investigations, for personal safety!" Andy adds.

Steven wants to gloat at Johnny's misfortune, but looking at the boy with his messy hair, cuffed blue jeans and now slightly blood-stained white t-shirt, he just wants to comfort him. Wrap him in his arms and tell him everything will be alright. God. He is such a pushover. 

"Have you listened to the Spirit Box yet?" Johnny asks, opening a beer from the fridge.

"No. Are you ready?" Mike asks.

Johnny holds up one finger and chugs the beer. He lets out a loud belch. "Ok. Now I'm ready."

The four boys sit in their semi-circle on the kitchen floor with the Spirit Box in the center. Mike resets the device and hits play. They hear Johnny calling to Anji and the idiotic conversation between him and the other Angie. 

"I know, I know. Bad idea, especially for a first date. I'm sorry," Johnny says. "Can we move on?"

The sound of the bathroom door slamming and running water are clearly heard on the Spirit Box. 

"If that is you can you turn off the shower" Johnny's voice is saying on the device. A whiny female voice replies," NO!"

"It sounds like my little sister throwing a temper tantrum," Johnny says, then quickly looks around, waiting for some kind of punishment by this invisible force.

The Spirit Box plays on, and the sounds of Johnny and Steven marveling over the mirror message are heard.

"That's as creative as you can get, Steven?" Angie's derogatory comment. Then a very high-pitched static sentence.

"Whoa. Wait. Can you clean that up?"Steven asks, but Mike's already on it, adjusting controls and rewinding the segment.

Steven giggles when he hears Anji say, “Don't talk to him, bitch."

"Yep. Your would-be girlfriend upset our ghost," Mike affirms.

No EVPs can be heard during the hair pulling incident. But it's a whole different story when Steven speaks into the Spirit Box. 

"Anji, love, is it me? Should I leave? Have I upset you?" Steven's voice is almost a whisper.

The investigators hear hissing and static then "LEAVE!" very clearly, then more static hissing.

"Oh god, " Steven gasps. 

"Wait, we need to clean up the hissing. She's saying something besides just leave." Mike says.

"She's wrong. LEAVE!"

Mike fiddles with the controls to try to clean up the last part of the EVP.

"Her, not you. He hurt you. I'll hurt him."

"Looks like your girlfriend took a bullet for you, mate," Andy teases. "She was going after you!"

"Wait. Why was she going after me? How did I hurt Moz? Isn't that what she's saying? 'She's wrong. LEAVE! Her, not you. He hurt you. I'll hurt him' That's what I transcribed from this. Right?" Johnny squints at the notebook he's holding.

"I, I'm not sure," Steven stutters. "It's very confusing."

"Do you want to try another EVP session before we call it a night?" Mike suggests.

"No thanks! This poltergeist might be out to get me. I don't fancy bleeding tonight. You and Andy are welcome to chat with her all you want." Johnny answers.

Steven feels a headache coming on.

"I'm exhausted. I don't understand what happened. I'm a bit freaked out, truth be told," he says to save face. 

He's actually mortified. His dead friend hates his new friend’s girlfriend. She also thinks Johnny intentionally hurt him. What the fuck? He goes upstairs and locks himself in the bathroom. He turns on the shower. That should give him an excuse for a longer restroom visit. But then his hair should be wet. Fuck it. He strips and steps into the warm water. What is he going to say to Johnny if he asks how he hurt him? Steven decides to lie like the coward he is. He will tell Johnny he has no idea what Anji meant. He has no idea why she threw a tantrum tonight. Or maybe he'll agree with Mike that negative energy breeds negative energy. He pinches the bridge of his nose to combat his headache. Maybe he can just stay in the shower all night and turn into a human raisin. It's a lovely thought but it won't work, so he reluctantly turns off the water and begins to slowly dry himself.

Someone is softly knocking on the bathroom door. "I'll be out shortly," he calls. He quickly dresses and opens the door.

"Can I talk to you, Moz?" Johnny asks.

"In the bathroom?"

"Just let me in," Johnny shoulders his way through the door and closes and locks it behind him.

"This is different," Steven tries to joke.

Johnny looks in the mirror and notices the blood on his shirt. He pulls it over his head and begins to run cold water over the stains.

Morrissey averts his eyes to his shoes. What is he supposed to do now?

"I'm sorry about tonight, Mozzer," Johnny says.

"I don't think it was all your fault."

"Yeah, yeah it was. If I wouldn't have tried to show off, this wouldn't have happened."

"Why did you feel you had to show off?"

"She didn't come to the store tonight. She met me at the restaurant."

"And she didn't want the evening to end with dinner?" Steven asks, cocking an eyebrow.

Johnny folds his thin arms across his pale chest. "No. That was me again."

Steven is really confused and anxious now. He wants to stare at Johnny's bare chest, to memorize the dips and muscles and bone structure. He's afraid to raise his eyes from Johnny's shoes for fear they will give away this longing. He is trying desperately to be a good friend, here. But what does Johnny want him to say? 

"She was too good to be true," Johnny finally sighs.

"I'm sorry." No, he's not.

Johnny hops up on the vanity and pokes at his shirt floating in the basin of cold water. "Have you ever felt like you can't be who you are supposed to be, Moz?"

Steven looks up at this. He gazes at Johnny's sad, brown eyes in shock. "All the time. Every fucking day of my life, even," he says then flicks his gaze to the ceiling. 

He feels something catch his left leg, just above the back of his knee. It's Johnny's right leg. He stares at the curve of it covered by the dark blue denim. How can someone's lower leg feel so warm? He is being pulled by this warm limb closer to the vanity, closer to the space between Johnny's legs as he sits on the edge of the sink. As Steven shuffles closer, he has no idea what to do with his hands. Johnny takes care of this dilemma by taking his hands and placing them on his bare shoulders. He grabs Steven by the waist and pulls him the rest of the way until Steven is pressed against the edge of the vanity, pressed against Johnny who is balanced precariously on the very edge of the sink. Steven's mouth opens as Johnny leans up and laps at his bottom lip. He inhales sharply and traces Johnny's lips with his own tongue. He can feel the boy shiver against him. Johnny takes Moz's mouth in a firm kiss, running his tongue against Moz's. His small hands travel under Steven's shirt and rub up and down on either side of his spine.

Steven is lost in this embrace. His stomach clenches with desire and his legs turn wobbly. He can feel Johnny against him, warm and oh, so firm. He thinks of nothing but the feel of Johnny's hands against his skin. He presses his thumbs into the boy's sharp collarbones. His fingers knead Johnny's narrow but strong shoulders. Johnny pulls away from Steven's mouth and moves to his neck, gently nipping and licking his way to the buttons of his shirt. Steven shudders and moans. "Johnny?"

Johnny closes his eyes and wraps his arms around Morrissey. He tucks his head into the crook of Moz's shoulder and nuzzles his chest. "Shhhh. Let me have this, please?"

"Are you both in there?" Mike shouts, hitting the door with his fist as he passes by on the way to his room.

Steven and Johnny break apart. Moz runs his fingers through his quiff. "What? What was..."

"I don't know," Johnny says quickly, stopping Steven's question. "Can you give me a minute alone in here?"

"Of course. I'm going to my room. Well, our room, I guess," he adds and can feel his ears burning with embarrassment.

It feels ten degrees cooler out of the bathroom. Steven is completely baffled. Not only did he kiss Johnny, he enjoyed it. He didn't freak out at the contact. And Johnny is the one who started it. Why? He slowly picks up the scattered notebooks and journals from the floor and tosses them back into a box. He mindlessly gathers his books and stacks them haphazardly in the overturned crates. He flips open the current book he is holding. "Autumn Song" by W.H Auden is on the opened page. Steven reads it, although he has committed this poem to memory years ago. Whispering neighbors, left and right,Pluck us from the real delight; And the active hands must freeze Lonely on the separate knees.

"I'm sorry, Steven. I shouldn't have done that," Johnny enters their shared room.

Dead in hundreds at the back Follow wooden in our track, Arms raised stiffly to reprove in false attitudes of love. "Tonight was intense. We can just chalk it up as one of the many odd occurrences of this investigation," Steven answers, folding his affection away in the back corner of his heart.

Johnny doesn't reply. Steven glances in the boy's direction. He is seated, still shirtless, on a bedroll next to Moz's own pallet. His hands are curled into fists and his eyes are closed. He looks like a tiny, skinny buddha deep in meditation.

"Are you alright, Johnny?"

The boy opens his eyes and consciously relaxes his hands. "Not really, Moz."

"Um, is there anything I can do? To help?" 

Johnny shakes his head. "I think I just need to sleep."

"Alright." Steven switches off his lamp and changes into his pyjamas in the dark. He slides under his duvet and closes his eyes. He pretends the warmth of the blankets are Johnny's arms wrapped around him in a loving embrace as he drifts off to sleep.

******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the next chapter will be the last one. Finally. Thanks for those who have read the entire thing!


	7. Here Began All My Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Admirer as I think I am  
Of stars that do not give a damn,  
I cannot, now I see them, say  
I missed one terribly all day." 
> 
> W.H. Auden
> 
> In other words, life goes on.

Morrissey awakens to sun on his face once again. The room is illuminated with its warm glow. He stretches and turns to his right. Johnny is sleeping soundly on his bedroll. He's lying on his stomach and his mouth is half open against his pillow. He doesn't look so tough now. In fact, he looks quite young and vulnerable. Steven wonders if sleep is the only time people can truly be genuine. That's a deep thought for first thing in the morning and he quickly abandons it for tea and breakfast.

Downstairs, he is the only one in the kitchen. How late did he sleep? Andy must be at work and Mike at his uncle's. Steven puts the kettle on and looks over the camera monitors. He can see Johnny still asleep, as well as the empty hallway, the living room and diner. He sees the playback monitor that and he follows the wires to find the computer attached to it. He brings it out of sleep mode and is excited to find it is not password protected. After fixing his tea and grabbing a yogurt from the fridge, Steven decides to review playback from the video last night in the hallway. He's not sure what he is looking for. He sees himself and Andy, then later Johnny, Angie and himself. No entities or apparitions.

Steven switches cameras now. He wants to review the footage from his bedroom. Surely something will be seen trashing his room. He rewinds as he finishes his yogurt. When he pushes play, it is obvious he went a bit too far back. He sees Johnny sitting beside his sleeping form, playing his guitar. He doesn't know how to sync the audio with the video, so all he can do is watch. Johnny puts down his guitar and walks to Moz's head. Steven leans closer to the monitor. What is Johnny doing? Is he singing or speaking? His lips are definitely moving. Then his hand hovers over Steven's face. Steven can almost feel the warmth just from watching the monitor. But Johnny doesn't touch him. Instead, he curls up beside him, resting his head near Steven's hip. Soon, Johnny is scooting closer to Morrissey, probably for warmth. His head ends up on Moz's feet. He watches himself tugging Johnny onto his pallet and covering them both. Steven fast forwards the tape. He already knows how this scene ends. 

When he resumes the playback, he can see himself and Andy with the EMF detector. He lets it play. The room is empty once he and Andy leave. All is quiet until the door closes by itself. The box of journals overturns and they scatter across the floor as though someone sliding them with their feet. Next, a crate of books appears to levitate then crashes to the floor. Is that a shadow figure? Steven notes the time on the video so he can have Mike review it later. He stops the playback. He doesn't want to see Angie get hit in the face. This is so depressing, looking for apparitions, seeking physical evidence of the one friend in his life who is now upset and angry. All Steven wants is to shower and dress to start this new day. He double checks that Johnny is still sleeping. He definitely doesn't want anymore awkward bathroom encounters with the boy. His heart can't take it.

Once he's safely upstairs,locked in the bathroom once again, his traitorous thoughts return to the night before. Steven will never be able to look at that vanity the same way. In the mirror, he envisions Johnny naked from the waist up pulling him in for the kiss. He can feel himself hardening at the memory of being pressed against Johnny, feeling the boy's firmness rubbing against him. No, no no. Do not go there, Steven. Johnny was not happy about last night. It was all some weird mistake. Steven steps into the shower and lets the water soak his hair and pour down his face. It was foolish to think that anything could happen between him and Johnny. And yet, something did, whispers his subconscious. Now he's reliving the sensation of Johnny's lips kissing him, the bites and licks on his neck. Shivering, Steven surrenders to the fantasy. He imagines Johnny's nimble fingers unbuttoning his shirt, his lips drifting to Steven's nipple, biting the nub and licking around it in a sensual circle. It almost feels real. He gasps aloud and looks down. He is painfully erect. Steven closes his eyes and returns to his fantasy. Johnny is undoing Steven's trousers. He slowly pushes them down revealing a light trail of hair and then his hard cock arching upward toward his navel. Steven strokes himself slowly, picturing Johnny's long, slender fingers wrapped around his length. He groans at the thought of Johnny's firm grip. The steam from the shower mimics Johnny's hot, panting breaths. Steven stills his hand. He can imagine Johnny licking his way down his abdomen, accenting his descent with tiny bites and nibbles. In his mind, Johnny sinks to his knees, looking up at Steven with hungry, black-lined eyes and a teasing toss of his black bangs. Steven trembles with anticipation. He takes himself in hand again, this time picturing Johnny's tongue gliding across his cock until he circles the tip. Then he swallows Steven all the way to the base. Oh god. It only takes a few, quick strokes picturing Johnny devouring him until shoots his cum onto his own belly. Shit. What is he doing? How is he going to survive living with Johnny for a year if he engages in erotic fantasies? Ok. That’s it. He won't indulge his lustful thoughts again. Embarrassment and shame overtake his psyche . He's wanking whilst thinking of his friend. His very confused and upset friend. Get your shit together, Steven, if you ever want to look Johnny in the face again.

Once dressed for the day, Steven throws himself into making a list of tasks. He only has three more days before his holiday from work is over. He'd like to see about finding some furniture. Crawling about on the floor is getting old quickly. Also, it would be nice to price out the cost of paint and supplies. He'd like to go monochromatic in color scheme. Maybe deep grey and white. It might help to give the house a crisp, modern feel instead of the sad essence of time stopping sometime last decade. 

"Do you mind if I smoke?" Johnny asks, stepping into the kitchen.

The boy is wearing sunglasses. Indoors. And he still manages to pull off the look. Steven sighs, “I’d really prefer you not since I inadvertently sealed all the windows shut. I won’t be able to air the place out.”

Johnny shrugs and goes out on the front stoop. Steven isn't sure how to interpret Johnny's actions. He can't see the boy's eyes to determine if he's tired or sad or happy or indifferent. He did ask for permission to smoke indoors, but Steven can't recall a time this past week when Johnny smoked in his sight, except for the copper warehouse. Steven runs his fingers nervously through his hair. God. He is searching for meaning when there probably is none.

"I was thinking we could pick up a sofa today. I have a friend that runs a furniture salvage. I'm sure we could find something cheap that could fit into your aesthetic scheme for this place," Johnny says with a smile.

"That sounds delightful. I'm picturing something floral with small birds," he answers, not looking up from his laptop.

"I will hold you to that. If there's a couch with flowers and birds on it, it will be in this house this evening!"

"I would expect nothing less." Steven smiles, following Johnny's lead to return their relationship to the state it was in before 'The Encounter' (Steven's name for last night).

So Steven is again riding shotgun to Johnny's licenseless driving of the van. They arrive at an industrial looking complex. "Is this a legitimate business?"

"Sort of"

"Do I need to wait in the van?"

"No. You need to find the flowery, bird covered couch you like best!"

Johnny rings a buzzer outside a loading dock. A brown-haired young man opens the dock door. "Johnny, boy! Haven't seen you in ages! Oh, who is your friend? I don't believe we've been introduced," he says with an overly interested smile for Morrissey.

"This is Morrissey. We're flatmates and we're in search of a sofa," Johnny says.

"Hmmm. Morrissey. What an interesting name. I bet there is a story behind it, eh?"

"Erm, no. Not really. I just hate my given name," he replies.

"Well this blouse is a work of art," the overly interested man says, fingering the material of Moz's shirt.

Morrissey looks to Johnny for help.

"Alright, Adam, you're terrifying him. Lead us to the sofas!" Johnny intervenes.

"Oh. You're a shy boy, then. I'll have to change my tactics," Adam says with a sleazy smile.

Dear god, who would have thought furniture shopping would be so taxing? Steven hasn't been so obviously hit on except at clubs, places he only frequents when there is an interesting music gig. He is completely unnerved by this situation. How can he form a connection with a sofa when he is being stalked by a Michael Fassbender wannabe?

"Sorry about him, " Johnny whispers. "Although, if you flirt, we might be able to get the couch for free."

Morrissey almost trips over his feet.

"I'm only joking," Johnny says with a smirk. He leans in close to Steven once more and whispers,"I know he's not your type."

Great. Now he's blushing. But really, what is Johnny on about?

"Alright, lads. Have at it," Adam says, gesturing to the warehouse full of all kinds of chairs, sofas, settees and ottomans. "If you need me, just wink," Adam says this with eyes only for Morrissey.

Steven ignores Adam and looks over the mass of furniture. He sees a lovely grey sofa but the back cushions aren't fast. He wants a solid, soft backrest that won't come lose or get squashed down.

"How about this one?" Johnny asks.

"No." Johnny is pointing at a hideous red monstrosity that could have come from Queen Victoria's bedchamber.

"How about this? It's got flowers on it."

Morrissey gives Johnny a look of disdain from under his eyebrows. Giant goldenrod is not his idea of floral. But then he sees it. 

"That's it. That's the one," he says and points toward the glorious sofa patterned in royal blue, teal, black, green and just a hint of coral flora and fauna.

"But it doesn't have any birds."

"Indeed. Its only flaw." Morrissey sinks into the cushions and leans back. Yes. His head is cushioned properly without any movement. Johnny sits beside him.

"Wow. You know your couches, Mozza." Johnny rests his head on Steven's shoulder. Not for the first time today, Steven wonders what is going through Johnny's brain. Why is he sending out these mixed messages? "Hey, Adam! We've found one!"

Adams sashays over to them and begins negotiating the price with Johnny. Morrissey hops up and inspects the couch from behind. He sees Johnny shaking his head furiously. He steps a bit closer to hear what is taking place.

"I can't do it, mate. He's unavailable," Johnny is saying.

"He's unavailable or he's seeing someone? There is a difference, you know" is Adam's reply.

"He's seeing someone. I think it's serious."

"Damn. The good ones always get snatched up."

Steven walks to the far end of the warehouse. He doesn't like the thought of being bartered like a piece of meat. Both the bartering and the meat are disgusting. He makes sure he is far enough away not to hear any more of the conversation. He will assist Johnny in carrying the sofa to the van when called upon. 

"Well, I'm done with people today. Way too much interaction," Steven says once back in the van.

"You weren't flattered? Adam was really into you."

"No! He wasn't into me. How could he be? He doesn't know me. He only liked my shirt.”

"Oh I could say something really crude right now."

"Please don't. I already feel like I need to shower after the way he looked at me."

Johnny laughs and turns on the radio. Steven wonders what the hell is up with his friend. First he acts like he’s trying to pimp him out for a free sofa, then he lies about Steven’s relationship status to save him. It’s too confusing. He needs some time alone to gather his thoughts.

The two boys make it home to the house only to realize that the sofa will not fit through the front door.

“Shit,” Johnny says.

“Say, is that a new couch?” Mike pops his head out the door.

“Yeah, but how are we going to get it into the house?” Steven asks.

“You do have tools, right?” Mike asks.

“A few.”

“Well let’s take a look and see if we can get the door off the hinges. If not, we’ll have to wait for Andy,” Johnny says.

“You mean Mike and I will have to wait for Andy because you’ll be at work.”

Johnny just smiles. “I have faith that you boys can do this without me.”

Between the three of them and Steven’s small assortment of tools, they manage to remove the front door and carry the sofa into the lounge. They celebrate by having a nice sit down to try it out.

“It’s a bit busy, but it sure is comfortable,” Mike sighs.

“We really should replace the front door,” Steven utters without enthusiasm.

“We will, eventually. Let’s just enjoy the fruits of our labour,” Johnny adds.

“Don’t you have work?” Mike asks.

“Oh shit.” Johnny says, looking at his watch. I’ll text them I’m running late.”

“I think Andy’s home,” Mike begins but before he can finish, Andy is running into the lounge, screaming like a banshee with a hammer raised above his head.

“What the fuck, Andy” says Johnny.

“Bloody hell. I saw the door was gone and thought we were being robbed! Hey, is that a new sofa?” The hammer is still raised in attack mode.

“Put your weapon down and have a sit. Scoot over, Johnny,” Mike says.

Johnny is practically in Morrissey’s lap. “This is cozy,” the black-haired boy says, giving off more heat than any body has a right to.

“Yeah, this is great. How much did it set us back?” Andy asks.

“Yes, Johnny, how much did it set us back?” Moz really wants to know how much he’s worth.

“We’re not out any quid. We just have to play at a birthday party Adam is throwing for one of his mates.”

“That’s it? What’s the catch? Oh shit, what is he having us play?” Andy is worried.

“I told him flat out no keyboard or synth music. He’s gonna send me a set list so there better not be any fucking Depeche Mode or Billie Eilish shit on it.”

“How am I supposed to contribute?” Moz is almost afraid to ask.

“You are going to sing, pretty boy,” Johnny answers.

“What? No.”

“Unless you’d rather do something else. I’m sure Adam has a few ideas.”

Fuck. “When is this party? I haven’t sung in front of anyone before. I’ve never been in a band. I need to have time to rehearse,” Steven is terrified but there is no way in hell he’s going anywhere with Adam alone.

“Two weeks. We’ll start practicing once I see the set list. We could probably do some songs now just to get the feel of each other.”

“We really should replace the front door,” says Andy.

“And you’ve got work,” Mike points out to Johnny.

Johnny reluctantly goes upstairs to ready himself for work whilst Mike and Andy work on the front door. Steven sits alone on the sofa. Something is different. It's not just the addition of a piece of furniture. The room does not feel the same. Steven waits until Johnny leaves before going upstairs. There is still a feeling of dread in the hallway, but his bedroom feels like the lounge. 

"Anji, love, are you still here?" Of course, Steven receives no answer. That in itself isn't unusual. The weird thing is the energy of the house has shifted and he hasn't a clue when or how it happened.

******

The boys wait for Johnny before starting this final investigation. Andy and Mike will start EMF detection downstairs while Johnny and Morrissey man the camera monitors.

"I'll bring up the audio so we can hear what is going on," Johnny says.

"Can they hear us?"

"No. And we can't talk to them, either. I just like to be more involved. I hate sitting and watching so I want to experience as much as the investigation as possible."

"Johnny?" Steven hesitantly asks.

"Yeah?"

"Does the house feel different to you?"

Johnny tears himself away from the monitor. "How do you mean?"

"The air isn't as charged. Does that make sense?"

"Hmmm." Johnny stands and walks in a tiny circle in the kitchen, not wanting to disturb Mike and Andy. "I don't know. How can you tell? What are you feeling?"

"When I first moved in, I felt like she was just around the corner or just out of sight, but I really believed she was here with me. Sometimes, like the first night of our investigation, I would feel almost like static electricity creeping up my neck or a sensation in my hands. I feel nothing tonight. I'm afraid she's left me." He feels empty, hollow almost.

"Screw this. Let's go upstairs and do an EVP session in our room."

"What about the monitors?"

"It's being recorded. If something weird happens, we can rewind it."

Upstairs, huddled against the wall, Johnny and Steven sit in the dark and stare intently at the Spirit Box. 

"Anji, are you here? Are you still angry with me? See, Moz and I are still friends. Does that make you happy?" All said with 30second pauses in between. "Do you want me to invite Angie back?" Johnny whispers to Steven, "That should get a reaction." But nothing happens.

Suddenly, they can hear knocking.

"What the hell?" Johnny questions.

"It sounds like someone's knocking on a door," Steven says.

"Is that you two?" Mike calls out.

"That's a negative from us. So it's not you?"

The knocking is getting louder, becoming almost frantic.

"Sounds like the front door," Andy calls. "Can you two check it out?"

"We're upstairs."

"Who's watching the cameras?"

The knocking is incredibly intense. "Steven, are you in there?" a female voice shouts.

"Oh no. It's my mum." Steven gasps.

Andy and Mike rush to answer the door. They are both wearing headsets and Mike is holding the EMF detector.

"Is Steven home?" Betty Dwyer asks very slowly, her hands full of plastic containers.

"Mum!" Steven rushes to her and gives her a hug.

"Who are your friends?" Betty looks bewildered.

"This is Andy and Mike," he motions to the two boys who slowly remove their headsets and give a little wave.

"And I'm Johnny Marr. It is a pleasure to meet you," Johnny sweeps in front of Andy and Mike and plucks the containers from Betty's arms.

Betty is still confused. "Why are the lights out?"

Morrissey looks at Johnny, shaking his head. His mother cannot know that he hired ghost hunters. He'll end up institutionalized.

Andy catches on, "We're in a band and it helps us focus on the music when we listen to our recordings with the lights out." Bizarre, but plausible.

"You're in a band, Steven? Are these friends from work?" Steven never brought friends over when he lived at home. Betty assumed he had none.

"The house needs a lot of repairs so I found lodgers to help with the cost. They convinced me to sing in their band."

"Lodgers? You invited strangers to live with you? And now you're singing?"

"Yeah," Steven can't meet Betty's eyes.

"Are these sandwiches?" Johnny asks, peering into the containers.

"Yes, dear. Although I would have made more if Steven had told me he had guests."

"We've been busy," Steven replies.

"What kind of sandwiches?" asks Mike.

"Cheese and veggie since Steven is vegetarian. I hope you don't mind."

"Food is food," Mike replies, grabbing a sandwich, "and Johnny's vegetarian as well."

"Thank you, Mrs. Morrissey," Johnny is so polite.

"You're welcome, love. You can call me Betty. Betty Dwyer," Moz's mother gently corrects.

"I have a sofa," Steven says, like an idiot.

"Oh. That's nice, dear." It is clear that Betty wants to speak to Steven alone. He's not sure he wishes to oblige her. "Show me your room, Steven."

Shit. Now he has no choice. "I'll be back in a minute," he tells his housemates, trying to keep the panic from his voice.

"Alright, Steven. What is going on?" Betty asks as soon as they enter the bedroom.

"I told you. I wasn't going to be able to afford repairs and improvements so I found lodgers."

"Where did you find them?"

Shit, Steven. Think. Think of a logical explanation. "I met Andy at the hardware store. He helped me get some good weatherstripping. He works construction and was picking up supplies for his job when he saw me wandering lost in the store. When I told him what I was looking for and that I'd just purchased a house, he told me he and his flatmates were between leases. I mentioned I was considering taking in lodgers and he introduced me to the others later that evening."

He is pleased he came up with such a story under pressure. He looks as innocently as possible at his mother. Will she buy it? 

"That's very, um, mature of you Steven. You are more responsible than I gave you credit for."

He quietly lets out a breath he was holding. Disaster averted. On this front, at least.

"I still wish you would have let me know. Just a simple text. I didn't know what to think when those boys answered the door."

"Sorry, Mum. It's been rather hectic."

"I'm sure it has, dear. Well I'll be on my way, I guess. I want to say goodbye to your friends," Betty says with a smile. She is quite pleased that Steven hasn't hidden himself away from the world.

Johnny, Mike and Andy are helping themselves to the sandwiches. "It was lovely to meet you lads," Betty says.

"Likewise," Andy manages with a mouthful of cheese.

"Thank you so much for the food, " Johnny says.

"You're very welcome, Johnny, is it?"

Johnny nods enthusiastically having just bitten off half a sandwich.

"I'll see you boys next time," she calls as she walks out the door.

"You're mum is fucking awesome," Mike says to Morrissey as he takes a fourth sandwich.

"She worries about me," Steven answers.

"That's mothers, for you," Johnny says.

"Well let's go over what we managed to capture tonight," Mike is back to business.

"The EMF levels were in the normal range downstairs, peaking around a 5," Andy says.

"Ok. Time to check out the Spirit Box." Johnny rubs his hands together in anticipation, but there is nothing recorded. No hissing. No static. No whispers.

"Did you turn it on?" Morrissey asks.

"Of course, I fucking turned it on! I'm not stupid!"

"I was gonna ask the same thing," Mike says.

"She's gone," Morrissey states. "She's left."

Johnny pats Steven on the arm, "I'm sorry, Moz."

"I'm tired," he says. "I just want to go to bed."

""Go on ahead, Steven," Andy says, gently,"We'll clean up here."

Steven makes his way up the stairs. He doesn't know what to feel. He's not exactly sad because he never wanted Anji to be trapped here indefinitely. He almost feels guilty. Like maybe she never wanted to be here in the first place and he forced her and then she got so upset and violent last night. And now she's gone. He puts on his headphones to listen to some soothing music and waits for sleep to overtake his tired body.

******

"Morrissey."

He rolls over and pulls his headphones off.

"Morrissey."

"Johnny?"

"No. It's Anji."

"What?" he gasps, sitting up and looking around. Johnny is asleep in his sleeping bag. "Anji?" he whispers.

"Close your eyes, Morrissey. You don't want to wake up your little cutie."

"Hey, now," he says in his mind. He swears he can hear her giggle. "Is this real or a dream?"

"It's a dream. I wanted to say goodbye."

"Why did you leave? I'm sorry we upset you."

"I love you, Steven. You are my best friend, but I don't belong here."

"I love you, too, Anji," he feels a lump in his throat. "You are my best friend. I don't want to lose you."

"Morrissey, you don't need me anymore. You have living friends. You are doing things I never could do, that I was too young to experience. You need to let me go."

"I'll stop, love. I don't want to chase you away."

"I want to go. I need to go. This isn't my place. It's lonely for me, Morrissey."

Stevens knows all about loneliness. He's felt it for 15 years. "I will never forget you, Anji."

"I'll come back and haunt you if you do," she giggles and whispers, "Thank you for breathing life back into my house."

"What am I going to do without you?" 

"Live. You're going to live," Anji's whisper fades away.

Steven's eyes fly open and he stands up, looking frantically around the room. His heart aches. He wants to tell himself it was just a dream, that it wasn't real, but he knows better.

"You alright, Moz?" Johnny says, yawning and stretching.

"I guess so. I had a pretty bad dream."

"Come lay down," Johnny crawls toward Morrissey's pallet. "I'll sleep next to you so you won't be alone in case the dream comes back."

Steven slowly walks back to bed. He slides under his covers next to Johnny. "Thank you," he whispers.

"No problem, Mozzer." 

Steven swears he hears a faint giggle. He shivers with excitement as he snuggles next to Johnny. The future is looking far more delightful than the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, the ending leaves a lot of questions. I may revisit this in the future. If anyone out there is interested, I could have a Frugal Spectre series. Who knows. I really liked the characters in this story. They all have so much potential. It's amazing how freeing writing in an AU can be. Many thanks for those who read the whole thing!

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I can't seem to get everything wrapped up in a one-shot. And I was really excited about writing a funny ghost story and just couldn't wait to share it. Plus I have no idea how it's going to end so it might not be complete by Halloween (that is my goal).I welcome any thoughts and ideas. The story is wide open. It's just kind of writing itself and I'm merely the typist.


End file.
